


A ticket to anywhere

by notyourown



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Angst, Canon Gay Relationship, Canon-Typical Violence, Consensual, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-17
Updated: 2016-12-07
Packaged: 2018-08-22 23:44:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 23,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8305748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notyourown/pseuds/notyourown
Summary: The back story is canon compliant. The story itself, though, isn't. It follows lives of Mickey Milkovich and Ian Gallagher after season 6 of Shameless US, partially matching season 7.





	1. You happy now?

**Author's Note:**

> I chose to concentrate on the stream of conciousness of the characters, thus robbing this chapter of the usual speed of the story. Still, I hope it is not too static for you to enjoy. All thoughts are welcome. Thank you!

When he was arrested, Mickey was hardly bothered by the fact he was going to be spending years in prison.

Scratch that, of-fucking-course he was bothered by it. But not for the usual reasons. He didn't give a shit about the shitty food. He hardly cared about the isolation and the rules and the lack of familiar faces. Hell, as far as he's aware, he wasn't even thinking about how dangerous it could get in there and what he'd have to do to survive.

Earlier in his life, getting sent to juvie wasn't such a bad option for him. It was easier in there. There were rules everyone had to obey, and he doesn't mean just official rules, he means those unspoken, but maybe even more important ones: survival of the fittest. He was good at surviving. Good at taking care for himself. There were rarely ever situations he wouldn't know how to react to in lock-up. Whether some guy was eyeing him in the courtyard or a guard was tailing him all around the place; solutions came to him quickly and efficiently.

Those were the problems he could deal with, he could solve. Those were the issues he had control over or, if he didn't, he always found a way to regain it somehow. There was a weird sort of order inside. Outside, well, outside was a mess to him, a mess that never seized to perplex him.

Ever since he was younger, just a little kid, he felt like he was only there to fulfill the expectations other people had for him. His mother, to take care of his sibilings when she wasn't around, which was more often than not. His father, to go on runs with him, honouring the Milkovich name with long trained hardness, all his weaknesses left in a place shoved deep, deep inside him; where no one can reach them. Then there were his sibilings, only people he could stand to be around, who needed his leadership when his father was in prison and his mother ran off to god knows where. He always had trouble finding the middle ground. Being a good brother and a good criminal were two very different things, often excluding one another.

He would thus jump at every opportunity to protect his family. So when his sister came home crying about an Ian Gallagher forcing himself onto her, he composed himself and relentlessly sought for the boy. Little did he know then what this little red fireball would get him into.

 

So outside was complicated. Inside was easy. And he was now back inside. Why was he having such a hard time remembering that, then? Why was he constantly craving the freedom, the fresh air, a familiar touch he hadn't felt in twelve months?

Because this time, it was different. He was aware now, more than ever, how much has changed throughout the years. He had a different haircut, he wore cologne, he was a fucking father. And, oh, he had a boyfriend. Well, kind of. And first time ever, the thoughts about the life he had built for himself on the outside were so overwhelming they were actually keeping him up all night. At fucking prison? It baffled him for how long a person could hold onto something so distant he wasn't sure if it even existed anymore.

But he was fucking holding on because, well, what else could he do? He had all damn day, every day, to think about the life he held so dear going up in flames, day by fucking day.

First, Ian left. That was an expected turn of events. Every time Mickey got locked up, Ian would move on with his life for as long as Mickey was away. Although, this time, it felt very different. Ian hadn't been there to check up on him for over nine months. He didn't write. He didn't write back. And he was bipolar. If it was all such a mess in Mickey's head, he could only guess the mayhem in Ian's.

He decided next time they spoke, they were actually going to talk to each other. Even if it's the last time. They both deserve it.

Next, Mandy left. She moved and she was finally her own person now. He was proud of her, getting away from the South side; but he missed seeing her. She was the only one of the sibilings he could actually talk to, if you could call the way Milkoviches conversed with each other a conversation.

Then Svetlana divorced him, got herself a new family. And good for her. She seemed happy enough. But why the fuck would she stop bringing his kid over? He hasn't seen him in 6 months. The little fucker could probably talk by now and Mickey was not fine with being cut off from witnessing that. He tried to understand that, too, he wasn't really an exemplary father on the outside. Guess he was just too caught up in his problems and he resented the way his child was concieved he could barely look at him at first. But as time went by, he'd see the kid sleeping and something would tickle at the back of his spine, this unfamiliar feeling he didn't know how to react to so he just tried to keep a distance. He was too similar to Terry not to fuck this child up. And he didn't want that.

Now, he'd actually like to be there for the kid. Maybe it's because he thought he was far enough now and he wouldn't be able to damage him. To ruin his son the way his father ruined him for good.

The only ones visiting were Iggy and Joey. And fuck, was he happy to see them. Even when he wasn't sure what the fuck they were talking about, he was happy. They made him feel like there's still someone, something out there that stayed the same.

He was well aware of how much he himself has changed, but a revelation missed him: Maybe, just maybe, the new world outside and a few people he loved would be lucky to have him again.  
To have this new father, who cared.  
To have this new boyfriend, this stand-up fucking guy who wanted nothing more but to fix his mistakes and to be loved again.  
Because once you've felt it, the love, the devotion, the rush of someone needing you, you can never again live peacefully without it.

 

 

**In a separated world**

  
Ian was happy. Yes. Sure he was. He had an amazing job, the support of his family and a new boyfriend. Trevor. He was nice. A good guy, easy to talk to, honest. Better than Caleb, Ian was sure. Better than…

Fuck, it was easier that way. It was easier remembering only the bad things, remembering only other people's mistakes and forgetting his own. Because, if he was being honest, many of his own mistakes were a blur to him.

How the fuck did he end up in the middle of nowhere with Yevgeny? And how the fuck did he end up with Monica? And why the fuck did he listen what she had to say, thinking that she was some kind of his saving grace?

But that didn't matter anymore, he liked to think.  
He was finally getting everything together. He loved going to his job every day. For the first time in ages, fuck, for the first time ever, he felt purposefull. He helped people and earned his money like an upstanding citizen. No more scamming, no more running. He was relieved.  
And with Trevor, it was so easy. He loved the simplicity of it all, not having to worry all the time; not having to spend every minute just waiting for something bad to happen, for someone to take him away from the person he cares for. It was so easy he felt physically lighter, so much lighter he was willing to ignore how little of much else he actually felt.  
But he knew that was exactly what he needed at the moment.

The moment was passing, though, and he wasn't sure for how long he'd be able to be satisfied with this newfound stability. But, whatever. Passion is overrated. This was better for him. Safer.  
And for the first time in his now adult life, Ian found the saying "Safety first" one he should obey.

Still, something was moving inside of him, too small to crawl out, but just big enough for him to notice. Something was always moving. Someone was always there, ready to jump out at a first chance of Ian's resolution wavering. Ian could only deny knowing who it was.


	2. Don't fucking tell me what's impossible

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried saying it all.  
> I also tried leaving some of their thoughts unspoken, unwritten; for you to get to know the unconcious parts of their minds; those parts who make them who they are.

When his brothers came to see him, worried expressions on their faces, Mickey knew something was wrong.

When they said Terry called and he was being transfered to Mickey's prison, Mickey knew it was time to get himself together and get as far away as he could manage.

So a week later, when he jumped into the car where Iggy had been waiting for him, he realised he had no idea where he wanted to go. He had no idea where he was still welcome.

He wanted, more than anything, to see his son again. He wanted to hold him, to make sure he was okay. He wanted to tell him he was never leaving him again. He wanted to tell him dad was there now, there for him, if he still wants him. He knew the kid probably couldn't even understand a word of it all, but he needed to say it, because he screwed everything up and he left his son defensless in a world overflowing with destruction. But it was too dangerous. He couldn't just go back there. He had to keep moving. So the plan was to just leave for some time. A year, maybe. Until things calmed down. Then, maybe he could try to see Yev again. He could make it all right.

And Ian. He could see Ian.

The night was cold. The area surrounding the prison was dark and desolete, making it easier for him to walk to his brother's car undetected.

They had been planning this from the beginning. They knew there was always a chance Terry would somehow end up in there with Mickey and they couldn't risk father and son meeting again, and on such a dangerous ground. So Iggy and Joey pitched ideas, trying to be careful when talking to Mickey about it. Prison and all. Not as private as a man would wish his escape plan room to be. Their ideas were stupid, though, often involving Mickey to fake his death or to burn the joint down. And their „code language“ wasn't any better. So they gave up the planning for a while, until there was a silver lining, an opportunity for Joey to be useful when he started fucking a girl whose father was a prison guard.

So, the short version, because Mickey hated the long ones and we should honour our lead fucking character, it was the middle of the night, a cold one, and he was getting in Iggy's car.

"Shit, man, hey. I wasn't sure you were gonna make it."

"Made it. Drive."

"Gimme a hug, man." When he leans towards him, Mickey has no choice but to hug his brother. He cuts it short trying not to feel how much he has missed him and how difficult it will be leaving him and everything he knows and loves behind again. Iggy's eyes water just a little bit, but enough for Mick to notice, so he punches him in the stomach affectionately.

"Oh, fuck you.“ Iggy groans. They look at each other laughing, both seceretly enjoying the moment. He offers him a cigarette and Mickey grabs it instinctively, reaching for the lighter above the radio. Some stupid british song is playing. What was it?

 

 

 

> _Stop and wait a sec_  
>  _Oh, when you look at me like that, my darling_  
>  _What did you expect?_  
>  _I'd probably still adore you with your hands around my neck_  
>  _Or I did last time I checked_
> 
>  

He turns it off. He exhales, the smoke from the cigarette clouding the car.

"So, whatcha been up to?“

"Not much. Doing some runs with Joey. Coke mostly. And I got a girl now. Tracy.“

"Tracy Bollado?“

"Yeah, man. You know her?“

"Been there, done that.“

"WHAT? But you're gay?“

"She didn't seem to mind.“ he remarks mischievously.

"Oh, fuck you.“ Iggy can't help but grin. He missed the banter. And he feels Mickey had missed it too. After a short pause, he remembers suddenly why they are here. "So, uh, the money's in the car. The tank's full and there's a bag with your clothes on the back seat.“

"Yeah? All set then. Thanks, man. Joey's waiting at the spot?“

"He just texted, said he's there with the car. Mandy's there too.“ Mickey nods.

"Oh, here's your burner cell. Keep us updated, you fucker.“

"Thanks. Will do. Let's grab something to eat.“

"But they are waiting.“

"Yeah, well, he can wait some more. I haven't eaten proper food in a year. Don't fuck with me.“

"Ok, jeez. Let's eat“ So he pulls over at a diner and grabs the door to get out.

When he realises Mickey isn't doing the same, he stops and looks at him questioningly. Mickey raises an eyebrow before sputtering: "I just broke out of fucking prison. You think I should just walk in there and order some goddamn coffe? Stop being stupid and bring me a burger, some french fries and a coke.

And some pie. Definitely some pie.“

"And a milkshake!“ he shouts when Iggy moves to close the door behind him.

"For fuck sake, that all?“ he looks at him sarcastically.

Mickey plays along and adds: "That'd be all for now. Thank you.“, the smirk never leaving his face.

He waits for what felt like ages, chain smoking. God, has he missed chain smoking. He is nervous. Didn't think his sister was going to be there, wanting to see him. Just makes it harder to leave. He needed it to be easy. Shouldn't he have learned, nothing is ever easy when you are a gay Milkovich living on the South side of Chicago and fighting for bare existence?

When Iggy finally gives him his food, Mickey devours the burger completely forgetting to breathe.

"Slow down, man. You're gonna be sick.“

„Shut up, Iggy. I'm not a child“, he retorts, taking a long, noisy sip of his milkshake.

So Iggy laughs, watching his brother unwrap the pie. Because what else can a brother do?

Not long after, Iggy starts the car and they continue the getaway.

Mickey feels sick, naturally, but there's no way in hell he's letting Iggy see that. So he puts on his bravest face, realising just then what a child he still sometimes is.

It was nice, driving with his brother, no one around them, no one to control them or to cut them off in the middle of the conversation. Most of what Iggy talked about was shit, but Mickey figured he was kind of nervous about everything, afraid of getting caught, so he went with it. He listened to his brother speak about all the latest gossip on the South side and everything Mickey's missed while away in prison.

"So, then he trashed her fucking car, sprayed _cheater_ all over it. Guy is fucking nuts. She really did a number on him. And he was raising another man's child for 7 years, he should have been pissed."

"Fuck, man. Straight people. What can ya do?“

So Iggy laughs again, realising he has been doing it a decent amount of times in the past half hour, surprised how comfortable his brother has become about his sexuality. He feels a weird sense of pride because of it. Iggy is one of the few people who know what hell it was growing up having Terry as a father. That fucked up every single one of them, never recovered. But especially Mickey. He had his feelings bottled down so deep it took years for him to even acknowledge them. And Iggy knew if it hadn't been for Ian, that would likely never have happened. It would take a lot longer than that, at least. That's why he didn't completely hate the guy's guts for what he did to his brother afterwards. They went from ghetto married to never together in a heart beat. Joey and him wanted to kill the prick. But when they heard how Mickey spoke of him, even after everything, even in prison, they knew that'd just make things worse. So they shut their mouth and tried to be there for their brother the best they could. It couldn't have been easy for him. Shit, they should have done more. But they did their best: didn't wind up in prison and came to see him almost every week, keeping him updated on every little thing they could think of.

Especially on Yev.

When they talked of him, Iggy would notice a weird expression on his brother's face, an unreadable one, a non-milkovich one, a kind of look some would characterize as affection or whatever.

So Iggy figured this kid was important to Mickey. And when they planned the escape, Iggy knew he must at least try to provide his brother with just one more moment with his son. Luckily, Svetlana was glad he offered.

Iggy was aware that for most of the time, he was a shitty brother. He could blame it on Terry. Hell, he should blame it on Terry. No love or devotion could have been passed on from that piece of shit. He should blame it on his mother, maybe, too. Nothing at all could have been passed on from that bitch. He should blame it on the South side, no one there gave a flying fuck about passing on anything but a good beating. But it doesn't matter who you blame it on, it was all the same. He was a shit brother. This time, though, he wanted better for Yevgeny than he himself had been given. He wanted him to have a father. He wanted Svetlana to know Mickey cared. He wanted her to see what he sees every time Mickey is around that kid.

All three of them deserved it.

So what could a brother do but to be just that, a brother, at least this once?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song the lyrics are referring to is 505 by Arctic Monkeys, whose work greatly inspires me.  
> Thank you for reading. Feel free to share your thoughts!  
> Everything's still pretty slow but it's starting to heat up. Stay tuned!  
> Love you!


	3. First time I felt anything since (-)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As things start to heat up, Mickey has to decide where to go and Ian has some decisions of his own to make.

When Iggy and Mickey pull over in the middle of nowhere, there is nothing to be seen but three cars.

First, a shitty family kind of car, the one they agreed Mickey would use for his getaway because it was as low-profile as cars get. When they approach, Joey gets out of the car and into Iggy's. He hugs his brother from the back seat and in seconds, Mickey climbs in the back as well and they finally hug properly, Mickey now wondering how he could have thought this would all be fucking easy.

"What the fuck are all these cars doing here?“

Before Joey could answer, a person gets out of the second car, a jeep, and the door of Iggy's car open as Mandy pops her head in.

"What is up, losers? Hey there, dickhead.“ and she hops in, smiling and hugging her brother in what felt, and was, literally, ages.

So Mickey smiles, holding her sister for a while. He looks at her, noticing she had been crying. So he pulls her in again, his arm arond her neck, their cheeks touching gently.

"Fuck, Mandy. Watcha doin' here?“

"Didn't think I'd show up, huh?“

"Guessed you were off to fuck knows where with fuck knows who.“

"Yeah. I was. But I'm here now.“ and she smiles to him fondly.

 

After a short chit-chat, the initial enthusiasm starts wearing down. It is time to move on.

"Let's get out, you guys. There's someone here who'd also like his time with this idiot.“, Mandy smiles, and just like that, she's out of the car and out of his life again, like she was never there in the first place. Iggy and Joey follow.

A minute or two later, a figure emerges from the third car. Mickey is confused, having no idea whatsoever who it could be.

 

When the figure approaches and enters the car, Mickey is left dumbfounded.

It is his ex wife, carrying their child. His son. In front of him. His eyes water momentarily and he inhales sharply to compose himself.

He gives Svetlana an awkward hug and turns to Yevgeny.  

"And who is this little thug here? God, he's big.“

"Yes, they grow up fast“, his ex wife says, russian accent still as strong as Mickey remembers it.

"Fuck, yeah. Can't believe it's the same kid. Got some hair now and teeth and everythin'. Does he talk?“

"He knows some words, but not yet really.“

So Mickey turns to Yev and slowly says: "Can you say dad? Say DAD. D-A-D“, but Yev remains quiet as ever, obviously comprehending very little, if anything, of what is going on.

Still, Mickey is so happy to see him. He takes his little hand and kisses it softly. He feels himself getting too emotional so he lets go of the hand, looking away from his son. Svetlana notices the change so she adds carefully:

"I show him pictures, you know.“

Silence.

"Pictures of you, you and the carrot boy. Ian.“ she continues,  "I don't want my child to grow up without a father. Call when you can. And when it all calms down, visit us. No need to be strangers.“

He is genuinely moved by the gesture. His eyes fixated on his baby son. So innocent, Mickey thinks. So fucking innocent. There is a world of emotions in his throat, denying him his power of speech. So he just sits there, his eyes doing all the talking.

"Have to get going. Have to get him to sleep. This will screw up his schedule for weeks. But it needed to be done. And you have to go, too. Good luck. Call us.“ Svetlana says, opening the door of the car.

Mickey opens his door and gets out of the car as well, his fingers rubbing his eyes, remembering the Milkovich clan is waiting further instructions outside.

"Thanks, guys. Really. Fuck.“ he manages.

"Here are the keys of the car. Everything you asked for is in there, and more.“ Joey can't help but grin, earning a long look from Mandy.

"Whatever. Guess I have to get going before dawn.“

"Yeah. Don't worry, we'll handle the cops.“ Iggy adds.

"Sure. Thanks. Call you, I guess, when I get wherever.“ and he walks toward the car. Mandy calls out for him and they all walk up to him, hugging him once again. Even Svetlana brings Yev over for one last hug.

"Be safe.“ he says, turning around in one sharp motion, unsure who that was supposed to be directed to. All of them, probably.

He gets into the car quickly, before this became too hard to handle. He starts the engine, still overwhelmed, and not long afterwards, he hears a familiar voice coming from next to him: "Let's ride.“

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

EARLIER THAT MORNING

 

It is 3 am and Ian is sitting on the stairs in front of the Gallagher house, smoking.

It is just one of those nights. He would usually blame it on the pills. Or on exhaustion. Or on the combination of the two. But, something was different today. He couldn't sleep and he felt as if his little world had been rocked somehow. Everything was the same, yet he couldn't bring himself to crawl into bed next to Trevor. The darkness, the quiet, the warm embrace of his boyfriend's body; it was driving him insane tonight. He felt trapped. He felt as if the moment had passed, like moments always did, and this new life he was living was slowly itching underneath his skin. He wanted to crawl inside and rip himself apart, just to find an emotion, something to ensure him he was still alive.

The cigarettes usually did it for him. Whenever he'd feel this way, he'd sit out front and light a cigarette. Just him and his thoughts in the dark. He would slowly breathe in and feel the nicotine burn in his lungs and he'd look at the smoke slowly leaving his mouth and the panic would always subside. Always. Until tonight. It had been hours and he was an ambivalent mess. He hated feeling like this, but at the same time, he relished the way his old self would always come out eventually, scaring him, waking him up from this drowsiness his life had turned into for the past year.

 

So, yes, he was freaking out. The cigarettes weren't helping and he had no fucking idea what else to do. So he just sat there, breathing, when a jeep pulled over.

 

He wasn't sure if he should be scared, it was the middle of the night. But, again, it was South side. Nothing weird about that. So he just remained sitting, watching as a figure emerged from the car. The darkness veiled the unknown newcomer and Ian was curious. So curious, his breathing calmed as he focused his eyes on the face of a person he now saw was a woman.

"What's up, assface?“

Mandy fucking Milkovich. After all this time. At 3 in the fucking morning. On his doorstep. What the fuck was going on?

"Hey, Mandy, what the hell?“ he runs to her and hugs her, swaying them both.

"What, can't a girl visit her own neighborhood?“

"Fuck yes, she can. But it's 3 am and you just pulled over in front of my house. Is everything ok?“

"Well, yeah, kind of. I mean, everything's great. Yeah.“

"Oh, that was very convincing.“ Ian remarks sarcastically.

"Yeah, well, no, really, it's okay, it's great, actually. It's just, we need to talk.“

"You are starting to freak me out. Come on, let's sit. Have a smoke and start talking. You good?“

"Thanks.“ she says, lighting the cigarette. As the fire lights her face, Ian can't help but notice she looks as beautiful as ever. Her makeup is impeccable and the shine on her face is a harsh contrast to his paleness. "I'm good. Really. All good. This isn't about me.“

"What's it about, then?“, he blurts out, but when he looks at her, revelation hits him instantly. "No, no, no, no, no. Just no. Case closed. No, Mandy, I- “

"He's getting out.“ she interrupts, "Tonight.“

"He's- he's- he's what? But he has like 14 years left?“

"He's breaking out. They're transfering fucking Terry there so he had to get out somehow. Life and death and all that shit.“

"Why are you telling me this?“, Ian swallows loudly, the cigarette in his hand visibly shaking.

"Why am I telling you this? Don't play fucking dumb with me, Ian. I've known you for years. You love that fucking idiot, and god knows why, but I love him too.“

"I don't love him anymore. I don't even know him. Why are you here? What, he wants me to leave my life and everything I accomplished because he suddenly felt like escaping the fucking prison? What am I, huh, Mandy? His little bitch who waits for years just to have my life taken away from me to run all across the goddamn country with a fucking convicted felon who's being chased by the entire police department?!“ Ian was now screaming more to himself than to Mandy, who looks at him, rage in her eyes.

"No, you fuckhead. He doesn't want you to leave. He doesn't want you to do any of that. He doesn't know I'm here, you asshole. He said Joey and Iggy not to look for you and not to fuck up your fucking life again. He said he wanted you to be happy. He is breaking out of fucking prison and he's gonna roam the fucking country by himself for at least a year or two before he can even think of coming around again, seeing his fucking son? And even then, what kind of life could he have with him? What is your goddamn problem, you self absorbed piece of shit?!“ she is now completely in his face, crying, her black mascara running down her cheeks.

Ian is heartbroken. He can't see her like that. And the mention of Yevgeny, Mickey's son, a kid he used to consider his own son, drenches him in tears as well and he hugs Mandy instinctively: "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I just- I- I try to never really think of him anymore, you know? But once in a while, something starts screaming inside of me. Fuck, there are times I think he himself is inside, that's how real it feels. There have been days, and I'm not shitting you, when I was on the verge of grabbing Yevgeny by the hand and waltzing in that prison, demanding to see him.“ He pauses.

"But I've been feeling better. Trying to keep it together, to move on with my life. I'm doing good for myself. I really am.“ he finishes, calming himself, wiping Mandy's tears off her face.

"God, I know, Ian. I get it. Better than anyone. Fuck, even Mickey gets it. That's why he asked us to leave you alone. I just- I needed to tell you. I needed you to know. You are the love of his life. A fucked-up, messy, weird love, but still, the only one he wants. I'm sorry I just came here in the middle of the night, I just- I thought you should know.“

"Yeah, no. It's ok. Thanks for telling-“, he tries to say, but he's interrupted by the sound of her phone going off.

"Yo. Iggy. All good?“ she says, her words followed by a pause, "Yeah. Meet you there.“ she says and hangs up, looking at Ian.

"I gotta go. I'm meeting them at a spot. Joey's already there waiting.“ she says as she closes the distance between her and Ian and hugs him, „I'll see you. Text me. Don't be a fucking stranger.“, she smiles and he tries to smile back, failing. He tries to tell her he missed her or to apologize or, at least, a simple _see you around,_ but the words fail to leave his mouth.

Mandy waits another second before turning around and leaving for her car. On the half way there, she hears him yell: "You really think he still wants me? After everything I've done?“

So she turns around, smiles at her friend, asking: "Why do you think I came here?“

After a short moment of silence, she moves back to the car and goes inside. She turns the engine on, but she is interrupted by the sound of the door opening. She looks up and sees Ian getting in. "Fuck it, let's go.“

So she smiles and bites her lip, because what else can a girl do to stop herself from screaming.

 

* * *

 

 

"WHAT THE FUCK?! What are you doing here? Who-?“, Mickey yells in shock. But before he can finish, a light kiss is planted on his lips.

 

What the hell is happening?

 

He feels warm breath all over his face and his eyes open to see big, green ones just across from him. He closes his eyes again, trying to get himself together. He is clearly losing his mind. But all of this… it feels so fucking familiar, so fucking good, even though he still can't exactly comprehend what is happening. So, he said goodbye to his sibilings, to Svet, to his son and got into the car. When he was about to start driving, he heard a voice and saw a face and he could have sworn it was Ian. And the touch lingering on his lips, the warmth, the want.

All Ian.

But it couldn't be Ian.

Ian was at home, unaware of everything that was happening here.

 

Unless…?

 

No. No. It didn't happen. So he breathes in. Breathes out. Breathes in. Breathes out.

He finally opens his eyes again, a now worried face across from him. He wants to speak, to find out if it is real, but he just keeps watching the red hair, the green eyes, the places where freckles used to be. He just keeps watching because if he says anything, does anything, it could all vanish in front of him. He is shaking, still minding his breathing, trying his best not to ruin this. The worried face is now grinning, he notices.

_Why is it grinning? Maybe I should grin too?_

But before he can get the chance, the grinning face is pulling him by his shirt and bringing him in for another kiss, brushing his lips against Mickey's eagerly. The kiss deepens as Mickey lets himself believe this actually might be real.

He touches the red hair, feels how soft it still is.

He tracks his fingers down the man's face, feeling the warmth in his cheeks.

He grips him by the head and pulls him even closer, to feel more of him, to love him more, to tell him everything that he's been bottling up inside.

Mickey is speeaking with his lips, his tounge, his touches, he is gentle, but passionate, his kiss is full of longing; his hands are shaking while touching the figure of a man he thought he had lost for good. It feels so fucking good he forgets he should be running, hiding himself, getting as far as possible.

It feels so fucking good he forgets Ian shouldn't be here. It feels so fucking good it takes a full minute for him to realise this is definitely goodbye.

 

But if this was goodbye, did Mickey imagine Ian saying something when he first got into the car? What was it?

 

His thought process is interrupted when some chick song starts playing on the radio and Mickey reaches to change the station, but Ian stops him, shaking his head. What the fuck?

 

> _All we do is drive_  
>  _All we do is think about the feelings that we hide_  
>  _All we do is sit in silence waiting for a sign_  
>  _Sick and full of pride_  
>  _All we do is drive_

 

He pauses for a while, looking at the wheel in front of him. His thoughts come running back to him.

The only way to know for sure is to ask.

"This goodbye?“ he manages.

Ian looks at him, eyes wide, cheeks flushed, lips just swollen enough to make a complete mess in Mickey's head. "This look like goodbye to you?“

"Yeah, actually.“

"I sure as fuck don't think so.“ and Ian smiles like it is the easiest thing in the world.

"North or South?“ Mickey asks after a pause, holding back a smile himself.

"Hm. South. Could use some sun.“

So Mickey obeys, putting hands on the wheel, thinking he wouldn't mind some sun himself. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I promised some plot and I hope I delivered. This was a very important chapter to me and I would love to hear your thoughts on it! 
> 
> The song in reference is Drive by Halsey. Kind of fits, doesn't it?
> 
> Also, I apologize for all potential mistakes, they are probably due to the fact English isn't my first language.


	4. Don't

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting reacquainted. Resolving loose ends. Learning to love again.

 "I wanna talk.“

It is still early, the sun is hiding sheepishly behind the clouds, peeking out every once in a while to bathe the faces of two lovers in a comfortable family car. Ian is driving now, eyes focused on the road in front of them. His boyfriend is looking out the window, motionless.

 "Mickey.“

Mickey registers someone calling his name, and as if waking up from a haze, he turns his head abruptly, looking at Ian. "What?“

"I wanna talk now.“

"Watcha wanna talk about?“

"Everything. How the fuck you escaped prison? Why didn't you want me to go with you? I mean Mandy told me some stuff, but I wanna hear it all from you.“

"Jesus, Gallagher. It's not even 8 a.m. Can we do this later?“

"No. I wanna do it right now.“ Ian says, resolution in his voice.

"Oh, you wanna- You wanna do it right now?“ Mickey laughs bitterly, shaking his head. „Well I wanted to do it a while back when you didn't give a shit.“ he finishes, his tone now harsh. Ian is taken aback by this sudden aggressive outburst from his boyfriend.

"I don't wanna fight. I just wanna talk. Please, Mickey.“

"Fine. Watcha wanna know?“

"How did you get  out of prison?“

"Guard.“

"A guard?“

"Yeah. Joey girlfriend's dad.“

"Oh, ok. That was fortunate.“

Silence.

"Um- why didn't you wanna tell me?“

"Heard you had a boyfriend, a job, all that shit. Thought I'd let you be happy.“

"Mickey.“ he turns to him.

"Eyes on the road, dumbass.“

"Yeah. Right.“ he says, remembering. He shifts his concentration back on the driving. "Mickey. I couldn't really be happy knowing I hurt you.“

"Yeah, well, didn't look like that to me.“

"I know. I'm sorry. I wasn't happy, though. Not really.“ he turns his head again just to recieve a pointing look from Mickey, indicating to watch the road.

"Ask your questions.“

"Why won't you look at me?“

"Huh?“

"Whenever I look at you, your eyes are either closed or avoiding my look. You looked at me when you first got into the car and not once since. Why won't you look at me?“

"Because“

He stops.

"I can't remember the last time I looked at you and didn't want to crawl out of my skin.“

"What? Since when do you talk like that?“

"No other way to describe it.“

"And why do I make you wanna do that?“

"Because whenever I'd look at you, you were never really there.“

"When? When the bipolar shit started?“

"Yeah.“

"I'm here now.“

Silence.

"I'm here now so look at me.“ but Mickey stays motionless.

"I look. When you're not looking.“ he says, his tone flat.

"Oh, so you just can't look me in the eyes?“

"I don't know, man. Maybe.“

"Look at me.“ Ian yells, turning his head to Mickey again.

Silence.

Ian puts his leg on the break and caughts Mickey by surprise, the man arching forward before being slammed back into his seat.

"Ian, what the fuck?!“  he looks at him, instinctively. He looks his boyfriend in his eyes, seeing the tears forming inside.

"Don't.“

"Don't what?“

"Just.“ Mickey pauses, inhaling sharply. He traces a shaky hand over his face. "Don't cry.“

"I'm not.“

"Well, don't start.“

"I don't intend to.“

He goes back to driving, his eyes on the road now.

"Good. Ask.“

"Did you miss me?“

Mickey stays quiet, eyes wandering. "Yeah.“ he says after a while.

"Do you love me?“

"What does that even mean?“ he says sarcastically.

Ian twitches, a weird sense of recognition hitting him. "Huh?“

"That's what- what you said to me. When I told you I loved you. When you broke up with me.“

"Oh, fuck.“ Ian is dumbfounded, their close to last conversation dawning on him. "Mick. I-“

"Nope. Not doin' this now.“ he cuts him off.

"I wanna talk.“

"Ask somethin' else or don't, see if I care.“

"Okay. How was prison?“

"Fuckin' peachy.“

Ian smiles, turning to his boyfriend just to witness a certain heaviness of his expression.

"You fuck anyone?“

" _You_ fuck anyone?“ he hears his question echoing.

"I ask the questions, Mickey.“

"Yeah, I did.“ he admits, a little unwillingly.

Ian pauses for a second, not particularly surprised. He fucked people too. He was in relationships. He shouldn't get jealous over this. He isn't allowed to. So he just pretends he wasn't just punched in the gut, methaporically speaking, and continues this interrogation.

"Who did you fuck?“

"You know. People. Inmates.“

"So more than one?“

"A couple, I guess.“

"You love any of 'em?“

"Fuck no.“

"You love me?“

"Fuck you.“

"Ok. We'll leave that one for next time then.“

"Next time? There will be no next time.“ he says and Ian notices the familiar rythm of the phrase.

"Are you for real quoting Eminem right now?“

"Fuck you, Eminem is god.“

"Oh, okay. I don't remember you saying that shit before.“

"Yeah, it's a prison thing.“

"You listened to Eminem in prison?“

"Cellmate was a wannabe rapper. Good he's in prison because he fuckin' sucks.“

Ian chuckles, catching Mickey smiling with a glimpse.

"Okay. I got more questions, you know.“

"God, you're fuckin' lucky I'm in a good mood.“

"Oh, this is your good mood?“

"Take it or leave it, Gallagher.“

"Oh, I'm taking it. But I'm sure I'll find a way to get you in a better mood than this.“

"Yeah? Ain't gonna make that happen with talkin'.“

"Oh, I had something different in mind.“

"Why are you always so fuckin' cocky?“

"Just around you, though. You make me feel like I matter. Can't be cocky if you don't matter.“ Ian says, his eyes on the road, his arms tightening around the wheel. He still wasn't sure how Mickey reacts at this kind of talk but he thought it was time to find out, to rediscover. So this time he was going all out. Well, not all out, but pretty out.

"You matter.“ Mickey says, almost whispering, like those words are the weirdest ones he had ever spoken, his look now soft, resting on Ian's face.

"Yeah?“

"Yeah.“ Mickey confirms, now looking away, biting his bottom lip, feeling as if he was pushing himself too hard, too soon. But there was no going back now.

Turns out that was all Ian needed. Fuck, he would have settled for way less at this point. He could feel his body relaxing behind the wheel, a small smile tugging at the end of his lips. He is so fucking happy. He is with his boyfriend, to whom he matters, nothing between them to tear them apart now. Yes, they still have so much shit to figure out, but this is a start. It's a start of something new, Ian thinks, a new life with the person who makes him as happy, if not happier, as he was the day they first met.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

They don't get too far that day. But far enough, Mickey figures. No one would for sure find them here today, in the middle of fucking nowhere in a dirty motel room. He feels safe enough for the day.

They leave their things in the motel room, the staleness of the air surrounding them. They care very little the place looks like no one entered it for months. There is dust everywhere, they are not entirely sure if the bedsheets used to be white. If they were, it was a long time ago, that's for sure. But they are in no position to complain.

Mickey heads straight to the bathroom to take an overdue shower. Fucking prison. Ian sits on the bed and watches as Mickey closes the door behind him.

He strips. He turns the shower on, surprised there is even hot water and gets in, letting the water wash off his weariness and worry. He stays there for a while, eyes closed, thinking about everything that has happened in the last 24 hours. Fuck, his life had been almost eventless for the past year: up at 6, breakfast, work, lunch, work, shower, meetings, dinner, leisure time, lockdown at 11. The only break from the routine were the once-a-week visitations from his brothers. And now, in a 24 hour window he has managed to escape that fucking torture, see his sibilings, actually touch them; no glass to separate them this time, see his fucking son again, reunite with the mother of his child and drive off to nowhere with his first and only ever boyfriend, who he thought he'd probably never see again, let alone be with him, listen to him speak, kiss him, feel the warmth of his skin against his own. And yet there they are. In a motel room, together, the redhead only a couple feet away from him, waiting. He is here. Ian is here with him and the now cooling water was the only thing somewhat helping Mickey with his anxiety. The car ride was pretty weird after their conversation, which was also fucking weird; just radio playing in the background, Mickey drifting off to sleep after a long night. But now he's awake, Ian'll want to talk, to do stuff together. What if Mickey doesn't know how to do that stuff anymore, how to talk to Ian and be funny and cocky and whatever the fuck he was before that made Ian fall in love with him? What if the man he used to be is forever lost, parts of him left on South side, with his son, with his family; parts of him still stuck behind those bars he couldn't get away from no matter how far he drove? And what if Ian is a different man now, more mature, a man who finally succeeded in getting away from the South side state of mind; only to be shoved back in by his felon of an ex boyfriend? How long until he realizes there is nothing for him here? How long until he leaves again, until he leaves Mickey again, going back to the life waiting for him in Chicago?

 

 

Ian calls his brother. They talk for a while. Lip is pretty freaked out, as is to be expected when his brother takes off in the middle of the night, sending him nothing but a quick text before he tossed his phone from the car on his way to meet Mickey. He was now calling from a burner and he wasn't sure Lip was going to pick up, but, luckily, he does. He explains the situation to him and he can feel how uncomfortable Lip is with Ian's decisions, but he is trying to be there for him and trust him about this. Fuck, he never liked Mickey. He never liked any of the Milkoviches, except for one. But not even he could deny how nurturing Mickey had been when Ian's disease first broke out. He was there for his brother, that thug, that criminal, that lowlife, trying to figure shit out in his own, weird way. Fuck, he loved him. He tried to kill a person for taking Ian away from him and his family. He basically went to jail for Ian. And now he was back… _for Ian_. So he had no choice but to understand, no matter how difficult being apart from his brother is, not knowing where he is, if he is okay. He decides to be there for Ian and to let him make his own decisions and Ian is relieved when he first hears the tone of his voice, realising he isn't angry at him, just worried sick. So they speak for a while and Ian feels he has all the support he needs to continue this fight for a love he was once too stupid to fully appreciate.

After the phone call with Lip, he lays flat on the bed. He is tired. A countless number of thoughts are running through his head and he needs to rest. He closes his eyes and tries to relax.

Seconds pass and he can't keep denying there is something at the back of his mind, bugging him. It wouldn't leave him alone for quite some time now. He just couldn't figure out what it was before. He sees it now. It's Trevor.

He just left him there. In his house, in his bed, in the middle of the night. It was a fucked up thing to do. Selfish. Thoughtless. So he picks up the burner phone and dials the number.

"Hello? Who's this?“

"Hi. Trev. It's Ian.“

"Ian? Thank god. Are you okay?“ he feels a worried tone in his now ex-lover's voice.

"I'm good. Don't worry about it.“ Ian says, realising just now how unavoidably awkward this conversation is going to be.

"Of course I'm gonna be worried, you just leave in the middle of the night, your phone out of service? Where are you?“

"I know. I'm sorry. It all happened so quickly I didn't get a chance to tell you.“ Ian says, ignoring the question deliberately.

"What happened exactly? Your brother only told me you sent him a text saying you had to go and you'd call me?“

"I, uh, I can't really talk about it. But I'm really sorry.“ Ian is getting anxious for the call to end, unsure of how Mickey would react if he found out Trevor wasn't just another fuck for him. He genuinely cared about him. Just couldn't stay with him, though, without always feeling like he had settled for less. For an amazing, funny, loving, hot guy, somewhat even similar to Mickey; but to Ian, he could only ever be second best. And they both deserved more than that. So this had to happen eventually. Better sooner than later.

"Well… could you at least tell me when you're getting back?“

"I- I'm not.“ Ian says reluctantly.

"You're not?“

"Yeah. I can't really explain. Just wanted to call and let you know.“

"What the fuck, Ian-“ he hears, but he hangs up the phone and tosses it on the bed next to him when he hears the door of the bathroom opening.

"Who was that?“ Mickey says, opening his bag to find some clean clothes.

"Um- Trevor.“ Ian says calmly.

"Trevor?“ Mickey asks, eyebrows rising.

"Yeah, my, uh- my ex.“

"Oh, your ex? As in boyfriend?“

"Yeah.“

"And why d'you call him?“ Mickey asks, trying to be casual. Trying not to panic. Ian is already regretting this. He's leaving. He should. He at least got to see him for a while. He's got to give him up, he knew that. This is just - too soon.

"I, uh, left him in my bed and ran off with you. Thought I should explain. We were kinda serious.“

"So you told him about me?“ Mickey asks, the panic subsiding a little, but still there.

"No, I thought it'd be best to stay quiet about my ex-current-boyfriend who escaped prison last night.“ he says, smiling lightly.

Mickey knows he's right. He also knew Ian had a boyfriend. This wasn't news. Still, it was different hearing it from him. Hearing they were serious. Fuck, that hurt like hell. Were Mickey and Ian serious? Before Mickey went to prison, sure. But now? It obviously has an expiration date. It's good Ian has someone who cares for him, someone to run to when this falls apart; when Mickey falls apart again.

"Yeah, guess that's true.“ he just says, sitting next to his boyfriend.

Ian nods his head and they stay quiet for a moment.

Mickey doesn't want to ask any questions, not today, not tonight. This is their time. Their fucking time, finally. They should enjoy it. God knows it's running out sooner than he could have presumed.

He looks down at his boyfriend, the other man's face lighting up instantly. "Let's go eat.“

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope I captured the slightly awkward dynamics of the moment well.
> 
> Thank you for your support so far. It means the world. Feel free to comment with your thoughts, questions or suggestions.


	5. This is it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Learning what love is. Learning to love.

They get some food at a diner, talking effortlessly. It was so weird, Mickey thought, being reconnected with someone after so long and still being so comfortable around them. Not having to think, really; just enjoying the evening. The redhead was as chatty as ever and that made Mickey understand just how quiet the last year of his life had been. It was also a factor of relief, his earlier anxiety now completely out of the picture. For tonight, at least.

"So, uh, I- I saw Yevgeny.“

"Yeah, I know, Mick. I was there.“

"Yeah. Right. He's so fucking big and he's got all this hair. I don't know who he gets it from.“

"What? The hair or the height? Both from Svetlana, probably.“ Ian says, chuckling and biting a french fry.

"Oh fuck you, man.“ Mickey laughs „I'll have you know, I may not be as tall but I can take you anytime.“

"Oh, okay, I'm sorry, tough guy.“ Ian looks at him with his fuck-me eyes, biting another french fry, remembering easily why he fell for the weirdo across from him. He is fucking cocky, and if Ian is being honest, he has every fucking right to be. So damn hot, with his hair slicked back like Ian remembers it, an old sweatsirt tight against his skin, one of Ian's favorites, that's for sure. He is barely containing himself just looking at this guy. A fire he has only ever felt with him rekindling and spreading everywhere over Ian's body. 

"So, uh, is this that date you owe me?“ the redhead says, grinning.

Mickey is taken aback for a moment, shocked Ian even remembers that. He was pretty wasted and everything went to shit afterwards. It was their last happy moment together. But Ian is smiling now, another happy moment crawling up on them, and  maybe this one could last a little longer than the last one.

"Guess so.“ he just says, taking a sip of his beer. He smiles when he sees Ian's look on him. It's not just another look. Desire is written all over it.

That look alone makes Mickey tremble. It had been so long. He would dream of Ian's arms around him, touching him; his back, his arms, his face; but he never really thought he'd get it back. All of it. All of Ian. But he was there in front of him, biting his fucking french fry, making Mickey fucking helpless, eyes nearly pleading. Why does he have to be so hot?

Ian was enjoying the fondling, wanting looks and he had no fucking idea how he could have gone such a long time without it all. Without Mikhailo Aleksandr fucking Milkovich. Without his boyfriend looking at him like he was the only one there. He could feel himself shaking, his leg nervously tapping the diner floor. "Let's get outta here.“

So they leave the diner and head to the motel, no explanation necessary.

"Fuck, I missed this.“ Mickey feels the words on his neck as Ian slams him into the motel door.

"Well you waste no fuckin' time, huh?“

"I think we wasted more than enough.“ Ian looks at him, a neediness in his eyes. He licks his lips carefully before taking Mickey's head in his hand and drawing him upwards. He kisses him softly, closing his eyes, feeling Mickey do the same.

That encourages Ian and he deepens the kiss, opening Mickey's mouth, leading his tounge slowly across his soft, moist lips and then into his warm mouth, his chest heating up, his heart speeding up. He slowly puts his hands on his boyfriend's shoulders, fondling his back and reaching down to his ass. When he feels Mickey drawing even closer, Ian lets go of his ass, ends the kiss, taking Mickey's shirt over his head and dropping it on the floor beneath them. He then looks down at his boyfriend, admiring how beautiful he is. Broad shoulders, dark eyes, fit as ever, only difference from before being his new chest tattoo. Ian's eyes land on it and he feels Mickey getting uncomfortable.

"Forgot about that. It looks much better now it isn't infected.“ Ian tries, but Mickey just shakes his head and slams harder in the door, keeping Ian at a distance.

"Don't, man. Just, don't.“

So Ian reaches for him, bringing him in, his touch now gentle. "I got you now. I'm so sorry. For everything.“

"We gonna fuck or what?“ Mickey sputters, clearly agitated, not ready to do this now.

"Don't do that. Mick. You don't have to do that.“ Ian says gently, his face sorrowful.

"Wow. I remember you hating the soft shit when I tried it with you. What was it you said to me? To suck your dick harder or some shit?“ he blurts out, forgetting his earlier decision to give them one more happy night.

"That was- I was- I was fucked up. Didn't know what I was saying. I'm so sorry, Mick. I fucked up. I fucked everything up.“ he trembles, now pulling away from his boyfriend.

"No, you didn't, man. It was already fucked up. Wasn't your fault.“ he tries, calming down, remembering this isn't the time do to this. But Ian is already shaking his head, looking away. Mickey is so fucking angry with himself. Here he was, out of prison, starting fresh or some shit, and he couldn't at least give the man he loves one happy night together. Just one. So he goes to him, fixating his eyes on Ian's.  "We'll talk tomorrow. I don't really wanna talk right now.“

Ian looks at him, gradually calming down, a smirk back on his face soon enough. He takes Mickey's hand and puts it around his waist. "Yeah? You got a better idea?“

"I'm sure we'll think of somethin'“ Mickey laughs before pressing his lips against Ian's and pulling him into bed. Ian complies, getting on top of his boyfriend, looking him in the eyes.

"I missed you.“

It takes Mickey a second to comprehend what he just heard. When he doesn't respond, Ian climbs on his hands above him, breaking the unity of their bodies.

"Mick. I missed you. So fucking much.“

Mickey opens his eyes to see gentle green eyes above him.

"You- You did?“

"Of course I fucking did. Why do you think I'm here?“ and Ian kisses him again, making Mickey forget whatever he was going to say next.

He feels his boyfriend. His lips, lingering on his skin. On his face. Neck. Shoulders. Chest. Kissing him everywhere. Warm. It's warm. It's familiar. It's slow. It's gentle.

No it isn't.

It's fast. It's fast now. It's eager. It's not resting on him anymore. It's moving freely now. Wanting. Rougher. Needier.

It's everywhere.

He's everywhere. Eyes closed. Lips open. Arms wandering. Touching Ian. Touching his beatiful face. Neck. Shoulders. Chest. Stomach. Cock. Thighs. Back. Ass.

Warm. He's warm. He's familiar.

Mickey feels strong arms grabbing him, turning him around. He feels them stripping him completely. First the shoes. The socks. The jeans. The boxers.

Then, suddenly, arms pull away. Mickey panicks, too far gone to stop now. He turns his head and sees Ian undoing his jeans hurriedly. He feels like he is going crazy. Like he is breathing for the first time in ages. Like he's alive. Moments later, Ian's gentle hands reach for him again and the touch sends shivers down Mickey's spine. He is now completely out of it.

He feels Ian's now hot, heavy breath on his neck.

He catches himself panting. Needing more.

"Ian. Please.“

So Ian complies. Fuck, it has been so long. He inserts a shaky finger in his boyfriend, feeling him adjust to get comfortable. Fuck. Mick is so fucking tight.

Not that Ian was complaining. The feeling is electrifying. He moves his finger to the right, making room for another, Mickey's body reacting instantly. He starts moving his fingers inside of him and hears his boyfriend become louder by the second. Still too tight, though. So Ian starts kissing his  back, moving downwards slowly, until he reaches the place his fingers and Mickey's skin interblend. He inserts the tip of his tounge next to his fingers, licking them and staying inside his boyfriend, loosening him up gently.

He can feel Mickey getting impatient so Ian wastes no more time, he retreats his fingers and his tounge and pulls himself up, guiding himself into Mickey carefully, feeling him tensing up. Ian doesn't move for a few seconds until he feels Mickey adjust and relax a little.

He starts moving. The most amazing fucking feeling overwhelming him. His mind clouding. His body shivering.

Slowly.

But then faster. Moving faster. Synchronizing the rhythm. Two bodies in a cold motel room, on an old, squeaky bed, one above the other, one grunting in the pillow, other against the back of the love of his life.

A mess. Mickey is a mess. His boyfriend holding him. Feeling his strong arms contract as he picks up the pace even more.

Ian hears his voice tremble in his throat. He tries to regain control. He tries to breathe.

"Ian.“  he hears his boyfriend whisper his name thus breaking the steady rhythm of their moans. It was that husky voice, a sound Ian longed for whenever he'd fuck other men, the kind of a sound Ian remembers to have only heard at times Mickey was completely and utterly gone, ready to be torn apart.

That voice alone makes his entire body betray him. Within seconds, Ian is spilling inside of Mickey, unable to hold on for any longer.

Just as he pauses, he feels Mickey twitch beneath him, unable to catch his breath. He feels the waves of pleasure go through his boyfriend as he lay on top of him, not wanting to move until Mickey needs him to.

A second later, he feels his lover inhale sharply. Letting go. So he pulls himself out of him and crashes next to him, wrecked. Unable to process. Unable to move.

Mickey doesn't move either. He just remains lying on his chest and turns his head in Ian's direction. He looks at him, all flushed and beautiful. He smiles. He rubs his temple with the palm of his hand. How could Ian have lived peacefully without this for so long, he doesn't know.

He only knows he is never planning of losing it again; of losing this feeling. Losing the only person who could ever make him feel this high, this alive.

"Fuck.“ he manages, still struggling to catch his breath.

"Fuck.“ Mickey confirms, still smiling, eyes now closed.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Mickey wakes up, the night still surrounding him. He looks at the ceiling, unable to comprehend where he is. Something is different. It feels different than most mornings. He lets his look wander. Where is he? He tries to turn around, but feels someone's hand wrapped around his waist, holding him firm in place. He turns his head, trying to see who it is. All he can see is a shadowy figure breathing evenly. Who the fuck is that?

He manages to turn around just a little bit more. He still sees nothing. But he feels something familiar. A scent. So he leans into the figure, feeling like a complete creep. He inhales deeply, everything suddenly dawning on him.

 

_Ian. He said- he missed me. Wants to be with me._

_I gotta—_

_Fuck._

_I gotta fucking go._

_This can't be happening._

He wants to crawl out of his skin. His heart is pounding loudly in his chest. He feels heavy. Too heavy to carry. He looks at the man beside him, his eyes now fully adjusted to the unusual shade of darkness around them. He watches Ian breathe, a tear rolling down his cheek. He catches it with a finger, wipes it away, but feels the wet trace linger on his face.

_The fuck did i do? So fuckin'- so fuckin' stupid. He should be home. Safe. Happy._

 

So he crawls out of the man's embrace and gets up. He collects his clothes from across the floor, tugging them on clumsily. He takes his things and leans down to the table to scribble a quick note on a sheet of paper he finds in the drawer:

_ Go home. Don't wait for me.  _

He leaves some money next to it, unsure if Ian has any to get  home safely.

He then stands next to the bed, watching the outlines of the man he loves. He leans over, his hand slowly caressing Ian's hair. His lips land on Ian's forehead and he feels his will crumbling. It takes everything, every last ounce of strenght in him to turn his back to Ian. To start walking. To open the door. To step inside. To close the door as quietly as possible.

But he does it. He does it because he can't stand denying Ian the life he deserves. He feels the night around him, cooling him down slightly.

He still feels Ian's traces on his skin. He still feels the happiness from last night, what this man did to him, how he made all worries melt with the gentle colour of his voice, with the electricity of his look, with the reasurrance of his touch. With the words he spoke, so tentatively, so affectionately. It was like he somehow predicted every goddamn thing Mickey needed to hear, to feel, to see and he was left defenseless, unable to protest the feeling of helplessness his lover induced inside every bone of his body.

He sees his breath in front of his eyes, disappearing slowly into the darkness. He doesn't really want to keep walking, his legs disobedient. He stops for a second. He thinks it over. Lights a cigarette. Weaker than ever, he forces himself to start walking again.

Before he can reach his car, he hears a voice behind him, getting louder by the second. He turns around and sees Ian running after him, putting his shirt on hurriedly.

"Mickey, what the fuck?“

"Go back to sleep, Ian.“ he yells, anxiety rounding up on him.

"Fuck you. What the fuck are you doing?“

Ian is now in front of him, looking at him angrily. He takes the cigarette out of Mickey's mouth and tosses it on the floor. His eyes land on it and then dart to Ian's, his look protesting.

"You need to go back home, man. Just go.“

"No, fuck you. I'm not going anywhere.“

"Then stay here. See if I care.“ Mickey turns away from him, pressure building in his chest.

"Don't do this. Fuck you. I'm not leaving without you.“ he is yelling now, pushing Mickey's back with his hands.

Mickey turns around, pushing him back. "Why the fuck not, Ian? Huh? There's nothin' for you here. Just go home and go on with your life and leave me to fuckin' sort my shit out by myself.“

"Why the fuck not? WHY THE FUCK NOT?!“ Ian laughs nervously, angrily, grabbing Mickey by his shirt. "Why the fuck not, huh?! Because I am a fucking idiot. Because I kept convincing myself I can get over you for so fucking long and the second I heard you were out I jumped at the chance to leave everything behind. Because I want to be with you. Because I fucking love you, you piece of shit. I fucking love you.“  he blurts out, shivering, pushing Mickey out of his hold.

"Oh, fuck you.“ he starts, almost laughing.  "You spent the last year at your home with your fucking family, fucking whoever you wanted to, having feelings and shit, landing a job that actually makes you wanna get up in the morning. Where was I, dickhead? I was getting beat up by Terry's buddies and sleepin' with a shiv under my pillow. And how many times did you come to see me? Twice, was it? Even got some money out of it, huh? Fuck you for playing the fucking victim when it fucking suits you, bitch.“ Mickey is in his face now, pushing him back hard. He really didn't want to do this. He really didn't want to say this. He really just wanted to have one last happy memory with the love of his goddamn shitty life and get out of there. But that fucking redhead had to wake up and fuck everything up as always. He had to get out there and go on about some fucking love like suddenly everything can go back to how it was before he dumped him. No fucking way. This was goodbye and Ian asked for some fucking explanation, so he was getting one.

He steps away from Ian as silence strikes. He takes a few seconds to just breathe a bit before he says:

"I can't do this again, Ian. I can't. You moved on the last time, I never got the chance to do that. Leave me the fuck alone. Please.“

He really hopes that would do it. The running and the screaming and the pushing didn't, but he really needs this last resort to work. If Ian ever loved him, he'd let him have this.

Ian is just standing there, motionless. "I don't want to leave you alone. I don't want you to move on. Fucking selfish, yeah, I know. But I don't wanna lose you again. I love you. I know what it means now. I know what the fuck it means.“ he yells, a little too loud. He reaches for Mickey but the man just takes a step back.

"Don't you get it, Ian? You lost me a long fucking time ago.“

Ian looks at him. The love of his life.

He is now grateful for the lack of light, hot tears streaming down his face.

"I need you to let me go. Please.“ Mickey says, barely coherent. He needs a fucking cigarette, just to keep his hands and his lips busy before they give in and reach for Ian. He feels his anger subsiding, making everything so much harder. Ian moves a little and he can catch a glimpse of his face now, his cheeks red and wet, his eyes desperate. Fuck, why is this so hard? He knows he has to do it. For Ian. For the both of them. He knows he has to let the man go. He knows they have no future, not like this. Still, he can't seem to look away.

When Ian says nothing, just staring blankly at the floor, tears still flooding his eyes, Mickey moves towards the car. He enters it and takes a second to process everything. His entire body is shaking but he has to start driving right now, before his will betrays him completely. So he turns the engine on, taking one last look at the rear view mirror.

 Ian is still there, still staring blankly at the floor.

Mickey wipes away a tear in his eye before it could roll down his face.

_This is for Ian. You are doing this for Ian._

So he drives away. For Ian.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was the hardest chapter for me to write. One of the hardest things to write in general, due to my emotional involvement. My priority was staying true to the characters and to life itself. 
> 
> This isn't the end, though. Hope you have the patience to bear with me. 
> 
> Thank you.


	6. He can't fake that

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He loves me. He loves me not.

Ian stays at the empty spot where his boyfriend's car used to be, where his boyfriend used to be, until the first rays of sunshine cast light on his pale, expressionless face. The emptiness surrounding him, the dimmed daylight, the dust in the air; it all reminds him of the person that was still here a few moments ago, a person whose arms he can still feel holding him; it reminds him of the inexplicable blend of raw emotional chaos flooding him when he first laid eyes on that person again.

When he saw the shock in those blue eyes, the shock he, Ian Gallagher, induced with the sound of his voice.

 When he felt the warmth radiating from this man; from those soft lips, flushed cheeks, shaky hands.

When he rested the tips of his fingers on the man's chest and felt his breathing slowly intensify, his chest rising and falling rhythmically; thus making Ian aware this wasn't just another dream.

When the man yelled in his familiar fashion, reminding Ian why he fell for him in the first place; his eyebrows rising, his eyes widening, his tounge running over his lips in one quick motion.

He loves that weird, secretly sensitive, protective, loyal, passionate, sassy thug. And he lost him. He lost him for good this time. But he had to let him go.

For the first time in his life, Ian is starting to realise that everything he does affects not only him, but people around him as well. He was having a tough time accepting and managing his bipolar, it took him the longest time to adjust, to admit to himself that he is in a way disabled and that nothing is ever going to be like it was before. He was focused entirely on himself, as he should have been, but not in a way that neglects the only other person who was there for him unconditionally. Sure, his family was supportive, but they didn't have to live with his mood swings; sudden angry outbursts, insensationable libido; they didn't have to watch Ian drive away with their kid in the back seat. They would come around and get back to their lives in a couple of hours. But Mickey was there for all of it. He took care of him. He loved him. He forgave him for cheating, for kidnapping Yev, for not wanting to manage his disease. He supported him through all of it, went to the clinic with him, learning how to be patient, doing the best to protect Ian from the disease, from the MPs, from Sammi. From himself.

He was there. Through all of it. Like no one ever was.

But Ian wasn't there for him.

He wasn't there to tell Mickey he was doing good. He wasn't there to give him hope, to tell him this is just another obstacle, just a setback, to tell them they're going to be okay. He wasn't there to ask Mickey how he felt, what he needed. He wasn't there when Mickey went to jail for him. He wasn't there when his wife divorced him and took his child from him. He wasn't there when Mickey was having a hard time stuck inside those four walls, when he was too weak to address his issues with himself. He wasn't there when he found out Terry was coming and he might die if he stays there. He wasn't there through Mickey's breakout, he didn't help him, he wasn't even planning on being there. He fucked up so badly that Mickey thought Ian didn't even want to know.

He fucked up so badly that Mickey would nearly crumble every time Ian would touch him, still distrustful, still doubting it was indeed Ian touching him, trying to love him again.

He fucked up so badly that Mickey left for good. He jumped into the car and drove away.

That is how badly he fucked up. That the love of his miserable life couldn't bear spending more than a day with him.

A fucking day.

Ian wants so badly to lie to himself about this. He wants to think there will be more chances, that one day, sooner or later, he will get another chance to make it right with Mickey. To tell him everything. Even more so, to show him. To kiss him. To hold him. To be with him. To stay with him.

But that isn't a likely scenario and he can't lie to himself anymore. He spent a year, a whole year of his life convincing himself Mickey didn't matter, what they had didn't matter. He spent a year building some kind of a stable life, a year he would throw away eagerly if it meant he gets to spend it with Mickey. Wherever. In Mexico. On the South Side. Anywhere.

But that's not happening. Not now. Probably not ever.

Because he, Ian Gallagher, fucked shit up beyond repair. There is no way to make this right. There is no going back. There is no knocking on Mickey's door when shit gets hard, there is no ringing him up on his cell when he suddenly decides they'd been apart for too long. There is no driving up to prison to see him when he finally accepts he doesn't have the strenght to get over what they had, not really.

Because there is no getting over this.

This was it. All of it. All there is.

The love. The passion. The heat. The connection. The chemistry. The acceptance. The trust. The forgiveness. The laughing. The warmth. The understanding. The comfort. The friendship. The longing. The sorrow. The type of relationship people search for their entire lives. And he had it at sixteen.

And he lost it at twenty one.

It doesn't get better. It doesn't get bigger. It doesn't get deeper.

And he lost it.

He drove it away.

He fucked it over.

He let it slip.

He let it crumble.

He let it go up in flames.

He let it fall apart.

Now he is the one falling apart. He feels like he might shatter into a thousand pieces if he moves from the spot where he last saw his boyfriend. So he stays there. He stays there, motionless, until the sun is high on the sky. Until the peace is disrupted by people walking and cars passing, everyone going their seperate ways. Everyone living their lives.

Leaving Ian to live his own. The one he put so much effort in building. The one he doesn't want anymore.

He feels the sun on his cheeks, warming them, drying them. The sudden heat sobers him up fast. He looks up at the sky and closes his eyes, embracing the warm touch of morning sun on his face and neck. He inhales deeply a couple of times, letting himself relax.

He heads back to the motel room, takes a shower and lets his mind wander.

What could have been.

If Mickey never went to jail. If Ian was never bipolar. Okay, that's too far.

But if Mickey never went to jail.

The case against him was a long shot anyway. All they had was a crazy woman who tried to kill him, claiming he tried to kill her first. If he had a proper attorney, there's no way they would have convicted him. He'd get a year, tops. Maybe not even that.

But he's Mickey Milkovich. He has priors. He spent half of his childhood in juvie. His father spent his whole childhood in and out of jail. His mother was dead. He was in and out of the system for as long as Ian knew him. They all were.  He was a South side thug. A lowlife. That's all he was to them. And he didn't have enough money to pay for decent representation. For a lawyer who gives a shit and who doesn't deal with an infinite number of similar cases on a daily basis.

He was a poor South side kid of Ukranian descent with a criminal record. It doesn't get better for people like him, like them. There is no justice for people like them. The system isn't made to keep people like them safe. The system is made to protect the upper class white kids who rape girls at parties when they go too hard on the nose candy. The system is made to protect the corrupt executives and the government, not the little guy struggling to make ends meat. Not the kids who were getting fucked by life on a daily basis. No one thought of protecting them.

The two of them could only protect each other.

But Ian has a job now. He has some money. And Mandy has some too. Maybe it is time to regroup. To reconsider. To explore their options.

As he picks up his stuff and the money Mickey left for him, he can't help but smile. For the first time since Mickey left him, he actually feels like there might be some hope for them. For Mickey. For Yev. For a life. Together. As a family.

So he rents a car and heads back to the South side, hoping Lip sold his boss a story that doesn't leave Ian jobless. Because he really fucking likes that job. And now maybe he could have it and have Mickey. And Yev. Maybe they could build a home together again.

Maybe everything will be just fine.

Maybe they'll laugh at this one day.

Maybe this was just another setback.

Maybe they can surpass it.

But… no. They can't surpass it. Mickey doesn't want to surpass it. He doesn't love him anymore. All Ian's done is finally catching up with him in the worst way possible. Mickey had a year to think it all over, to fully understand how Ian treated him and he has every right to move on from that. Fuck, he deserves so much better. After all they've been through, after all he's been through with Ian, he deserves some fucking happiness. Someone who'll respect him, who'll treat him better, who'll acknowledge everything he is, his strong side and his loving, protecting one. There is so much to Mickey, to his personality, that Ian just didn't know how to love properly. And now Mickey has a chance to find someone who does. He is moving on and Ian should be happy for him. He really should. So he tries to ignore the crumbling feeling in his gut and the hot tears in his eyes _._

_Mickey deserves better than I ever knew how to give._

He parks the car in front of his home, taking a minute to regain his composure before he enters. Debbie is there, watching Frannie and Liam.

"Ian! You're back!“ she yells, hugging him. Liam sneaks up for a hug as well.

"Yeah. Where's everyone?“ he looks around, his lips still trembling lightly.

"Lip's at his internship, Fi's at Patsy's, Carl's in school and we're here.“ she smiles, rubbing his arm gently. „Where have you been?“

"You know, around.“ he says, now trying to smile back.

"Around? Lip said you were with Mickey.“ she gives him a look, a strange one, as if she is trying to say _I knew you couldn't have stopped loving him that easily_.

"Yeah, yeah, I was.“ he says, moving to go sit on the couch.

"What happened?“ Debbie asks, following him.

"He ditched me.“

"He did what? But why? He loves you.“ she says calmly, but with a look of surprise.

"I don't think he does, Debs. Not anymore.“ Ian says, adjusting on the couch, avoiding his sister's look altogether.

"I know he does, Ian.“ she says gently, touching his upper arm tentatively.

"He used to but things change. I fucked him over pretty badly.“ he continues, unbothered.

"But, Ian, I'm telling you I know he loves you.“ Debbie insists and her tone finally catches Ian's attention.

"And how d'you know that?“ he asks, smiling at his sister. She is so worked up over this. He wasn't expecting it. He wasn't even sure she'd give a shit. Although she and Mickey seemed to have formed some kind of a weird bond before he went to jail. But that was a long time ago.

"I saw him a couple of months ago.“ she answers.

"You what? Where?“ Ian shifts on the couch, dumbfounded.

"Yeah, I went up to see him in prison. Brought Frannie with. He seemed happy to see us.“ she just says, ignoring Ian's sudden skittishness and gets up from the couch.

"He did?“ Ian asks, tensing up even more, surprised to know Debs actually cared about his boyfriend in a way. _Ex_. His ex boyfriend.

"Yeah, he seemed pretty lonely. I mean, who wouldn't be, right?“ she says bluntly, picking Frannie up from the floor where she had been playing with Carl's old truck. Probably the only one he still had. Ian remembers him and Lip stealing that truck from a store after Carl was born. They were too young and too poor to buy him something and they thought he should at least have one toy that wasn't passed on from his older brothers. That little truck survived all of Carl's weird experiments and now their niece is playing with it. Ian feels like that old toy is becoming a part of the Gallagher's personal history. Maybe Yev could play with it too, one day. _NO. FUCK. STOP._

"Right.“ he just says, lost in thought.

"Anyway, he asked about you.“

That sobers him up a little. He shifts his look to Debbie, who is now holding Frannie in her arms. "What did you tell him?“

„That you had a job and a boyfriend and you're doing good.“  

"Jesus Christ, Debs! What the fuck?!“ he yells, standing up from the couch.

"Calm down, Ian. Jesus. He seemed happy for you.“ she just says, unaffected.

At that, Ian stops.  „He did?“

"Yeah. That's how I figured, you know, he loves you.“

"Or he doesn't give a shit anymore.“ he adds, resigned.

"Yeah I wasn't sure either. So I asked.“ she looks at him, watching the resingation leave his body immediately.

"You WHAT?“

"I asked. If he loved you. He didn't say anything.“

"Fuck, Debs.“ he shakes his head in disbelief.

"Yeah. He just looked away. We both know what it means when you shut Mickey Milkovich up.“

"Fuck.“ he just repeats, falling back on the couch.

"So I'm guessing he had other reasons for ditching you.“

"He said he wanted to move on.“

"Come on, Ian. You can't possibly be that stupid, can you?“ she smiles and heads to the door. "Come on, Liam.“ she reaches for him and he takes his jacket and grabs Debbie's hand.

"Find him, Ian. Make it right.“ she says, closing the door behind her.

Ian is left sitting on the couch, a puzzled expression on his face. Fucking Mickey. Fuck. He should have known. He probably thought he was fucking up Ian's life, getting him to leave everything and everyone. That's why he didn't want him to know. That's why he was leaving at 5 in the fucking morning. That's what it was all about… He loves him. Mickey loves him. 

So Ian laughs loudly to himself. He laughs and shakes his head and he doesn't stop doing that for a while because if he did, he is pretty sure he'd fall into pieces.

Time to make this right.

Time to love properly.

So he picks up the phone and calls the only person who he knows will always pick up. Especially when he's calling. Especially when it's about Mickey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a slow chapter; it's a short chapter; I know. But it's crucial for the relationship. 
> 
> Thank you for all your support.


	7. You. Me. Us. His fucking family.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bad news. Bad choices.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: There are allusions on past abuse in this chapter, so if you don't feel safe, you should skip this one. Nothing too graphic, though.

Mickey decides he is going to drive as far as possible because that seems to be the only way to escape himself and the overwhelming urge to turn the car around and go look for Ian. Or just go back to jail. Fuck, that would have been much simpler than this is. He is out there, all by himself. Wherever he goes and whatever he does from this point on it's only ever going to be him.

With Ian around, for a while, Mickey thought that he wasn't meant to be all alone after all. He thought he finally had a chance to be with someone who knows him, all of him, and still loves him. And for that while, it was like nothing Mickey ever felt before. But, shit. That had to go up in flames like everything in his life always did.

And now he has to get used to loneliness again. Sure, he had more than enough time to get used to it while in prison, but that was completely different. Inside, he could still dream there was a life waiting for him on the outside. There was a chance, a small one, that he could get to be with his son again one day. That was going to be his way of not being alone. Well, that is also ashes now.

Maybe he should really go back to prison. Maybe that way he could have a normal life once, in 20 years or so. Better late than ever?

No. He can't go back. Not to that mess. Not to Terry.

He is just going to have to adjust to this. Accept his new life. Find some good stuff to forget the bad ones. Like alcohol. That ought to help. And… nah. Not a good idea. Last thing he needs is to fuck this up doing illegal shit. I mean, he is going to do illegal shit, that's obvious. Fucked for life, anyway, right? But definitely not here. Definitely not yet. He's got some money left and he only needs to get to New Mexico for his new identity, courtesy of Mandy Milkovich. One of her costumers, anyway. Then, anything can happen in Mexico. Who knows? He's only sure he is never going to be that stupid again. No more  unplanned, compulsive shit. He's got some kind of a second chance and he is going to be smart about it.

He feels his back, stiff from sitting in the car, so he pulls over for a second. He lights a cigarette, walking around the car, trying to stretch a little. He takes his burner out of the pocket of his jeans and his eyebrows rise curiously. 6 missed calls from Mandy, 5 from Iggy, 5 from Joey, 10 from Svet?! What the fuck? Before he can dial a number and call any of them, his phone rings again. Mandy.

"Mandy, the fuck is wrong?“

"Mickey, I- You gotta get back."

"The fuck are you talking about?“

"It's uh- it's your kid. He's in the hospital.“

"Yev? What the fuck happened?“ he yells in disbelief and starts pacing nervously. The other line goes silent and an intense feeling of panic starts to overwhelm him. "Mandy! What the fuck happened? Talk to me!“

He hears muffled sounds from the other side of the line, something fairly similar to sobs. His anxiety only grows stronger and he opens his mouth to call for Mandy again, but her faint voice interrupts him.

"They, uh, they didn't vaccinate him. He's got some kind of meningitis.“

"They WHAT? Is Svetlana fucking crazy? Who doesn't vaccinate their child?“

"Yeah, something about Kev and vaccinating only some of the three, I have no fucking idea. But I'm off to the hospital right now. Gonna call you when I find something out.“

"Yeah, uh. Do that. I'm on my way.“ he says, shaking, and enters the car, storming off in the opposite direction from the one planned.

 

He's gotta see his kid. His little baby. He's gonna kill Svet.

Fuck.

He slams his hands on the wheel, causing the honk to go off. That makes his heart race even more and he swears at the car, at Svetlana, at the world for ruining the one chance he had of getting away.

But in the middle of it all, the only thing he can really think of is if his kid is going to be okay. He'll deal with Svetlana when Yev is healthy, she must be fucking worried sick as well.

Just…

_Just don't die. Please. Don't die._

He laughs. He is being unreasonable. It's treatable. They probably got it on time. He is probably being medicated and taken good care of. He is probably just sleeping and resting, unaware of the danger he might be in.

He calms himself down a little and continues driving, his eyes focused on the road, his head somewhere else entirely.

If he continues at this rate, without stopping for stupid, unnecessary breaks, he could be there in ten hours or so. That's soon. That's good. He'll at least be there for his child, first and last time, probably.

He has to make one stop, though. So he drives until he spots the first gas station. He stops to get some gas and gets in to pay. On his way to the register, he spots an isle with a few pairs of sunglasses. He walks over and picks one pair up, putting them on. He tries to find a mirror and fails, his eyes landing on a couple of beanies in the corner instead. He tries one on and walks to the register to pay for his disguise. Yeah. He is being smart about this. If he has to go back there, he is at least going to try to stay on the down low.

He gets into the car and looks at himself in the mirror. Not bad, he thinks. A guy could do a lot worse.

He then remembers where he is going and why and within seconds the car is gone, leaving nothing but dust behind.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

By the time he gets to the hospital, Chicago is already resting in the tight embrace of the night. The muffled street lights do very little to uncover his disguise and he feels safe enough to walk the distance between the parking lot and the entrance to the hospital. He goes inside swiftly and subtly as possible, stale hospital air sobering him up, gets into an elevator and presses the button for the second floor.

The first thing he sees when he gets into the hallway are his brothers and sister. Mandy runs towards him and takes him into a hug. He leans into it for a second before he remembers there are far more urgent matters at the moment.

"Where is he?“ he says, his look switching from one sibiling to another.

"In there.“ he hears a woman's voice and turns in its direction to see his sister pointing at a door. "Svet is with him.  And Kev. They didn't let us in. Only immediate family.“

"I'm goin' in.“ he says, heading towards the door Mandy was pointing at.

"Mickey.“ she says, her hand stopping him. "You're not his father anymore, remember?“

"Fuck that, of course I'm his fuckin' father.“ he yells angrily and storms through the door, finding himself in a hallway behind them. He stops for a second but continues when he spots big glass windows on every side. He walks for what feels like forever, checking every window for some sign of his son. Somewhere in the middle of the hallway, he catches a glimpse of Svetlana talking to a doctor.

He storms into the room, his entire body shaking. His view darts from Svetlana to the doctor, who both stand dumbfounded in front of him.

"Mickey?“ Svet yells in his face.

"Where is he?“ Mickey scans the room for any sign of Yev.

"They're running some tests.“ Svet says, a worried expression never leaving her face.

"I'm sorry, sir, but only immediate fa-“ the doctor tries to say, but Mickey cuts in.

"He's my son.“ he snaps, rubbing his eyes with the tip of his fingers.

"But his father is right there?"she says questioningly, turning her head to Kev, who is staring blankly back at them. says questioningly

"Mickey is biological father.“ Svet cuts in now, giving the doctor an affirmative nod.

She steps back. „I apologize, sir. Your son should be back soon.“

So now Mickey nods, accepting her apology silently.

"Mickey. Why are you here? It's dangerous.“  Svetlana says quietly, almost whispers, leaning in for some privacy.

"I gotta see him. He's my fucking son. Is he okay?“ he says loudly, shifting his focus from his ex wife to the doctor.

"Yes, he's doing good. Just doing some more tests to be sure, but it looks like Hib meningitis.“

"Hib?“ he prounonces awkwardly. "What's that?“

"A specific type of meningitis, fairly treatable. It never would have occured if he was vaccinated.“

"How did he get it?“

"There's no way to know for sure. He could have got it from anyone. You don't have to actually have the disease to be able to transmit the bactery.“

"Fuck. Is he gonna be okay? You're gonna fix him, right?“

"We're doing what we can. He should be okay in a month or so.“

That calms him down a little and he breathes in sharply. Before he can say anything, someone opens the door and he turns around to see a nurse holding his little son in her arms.

"Yev. Hey, little man.“ he says, trying to smile. Yev looks okay, a little pale but otherwise pretty decent.

"I saw him two days ago and he seemed fine.“ Mickey says, eyes still fixed on Yev, a hand patting him on his little head.

"Yes, he got a fever that morning. A very high one. So we brought him to the ER.“ Kev now says sheepishly, avoiding Mickey's piercing look.

"We should leave the little guy to get some rest now.“ the doctor says and opens the door, signaling them it's time to say goodbye to their son.

Mickey takes him from the nurse and holds him. He kisses his baby's forehead.

"You say goodbye. I'm gonna stay until he falls asleep.“ Svetlana says.

"Okay, little guy. I gotta go now but you'll be okay, yeah?“ Mickey utters with difficulty. He hugs his son tightly and holds him for a while. He then hands him to Svetlana and exits the room quickly, before he can change his mind.

 

Mandy, Iggy and Joey are still in the hallway, waiting for some news. He goes to them.

"He's gonna be okay. He looks good. They say it's treatable.“

"How the fuck did he get meningitis?!“ Joey asks, a confused look on his face.

"He wasn't vaccinated, Joey.“ Mandy states, making a sound of disapproval. "I'm gonna kill Svetlana.“

"Nah, it's all fucked enough.“ Mickey tries to convince her, and himself and he takes a long breath before adding: "He's gonna be okay." like he's trying to convince himself too.

"But, Mickey? He could have fucking died.“ Mandy objects, Iggy and Joey nodding for support.

"Yeah and he didn't. She's doin' her best. More than anyone ever did for us, right?!“

"Mickey, you understand they're gonna take the kid away from her? Who's gonna take care of him now?“ she asks, her tone now sympathetic.

"Fuck. I didn't even think of that. Can't Kev and V take him?“

"They're equally responsible. They're lucky if they get to keep their own.“

"Fuck. Fuck. My kid's not going to some fucking deadbeat foster family. Fuck.“ he's full on yelling now. He turns around, his eyelids closed, his forehead frowning. „Fuck.“ he punches a wall, not too hard, but hard enough to draw attention.

„Mickey. Let's get outta here. We'll talk somewhere private.“ Mandy says, taking him by his forearm.

He just nods and the four of them head to the exit of the hospital. The darkness lays even heavier  on Chicago now. The cool evening air descends onto the Milkovich sibilings, their faces trembling with anguish. They walk to the parking lot and Mickey sits on the floor next to his car. His sibilings follow.

"I could take him.“ Mandy proposes.

"They require a stabile source of income. I don't think they'd let you keep him if they knew what your source of income is.“

"I'd take him but we got a criminal record.“ Joey says and Iggy only nods at that."Yeah. We don't exactly qualify.“

"Fuck. I obviously can't take him. None of you can take him. What the fuck do we do now?!“ Mickey sputters, angrily.

"We'll figure something out. We should get some rest now.“ Iggy proposes and no one objects.

"Yeah. We'll think better in the morning.“ Mickey agrees and gets up from the floor. He lights a cigarette and watches his sibilings get up a few seconds later.

„We're gonna head home. Where are you gonna sleep?“  Mandy asks, aware how risky it would be for him to go back to the house under these circumstances. He's already risking too much.

"In m'car. Don't worry about it. It's safer that way.“ 

"Yeah. Sure. I'll be here in the morning.“ she informs him. "These assholes have to go on a run.“ she also adds, pointing to Iggy and Joey with her head.

"Sorry, man. We'll be back in a couple days.“ Iggy says.

They hug their youngest brother. Mandy hugs him next. They leave him.

 

He is now alone in the parking lot, a cigarette burning in his mouth. Thick smoke clouding his sight. He gets in the car, trying to calm down. He stretches his arms, intertwining his fingers. He adjusts his head. He tries to breathe rhythmically. Turns the radio on. Turns it off. Lights another cigarette and opens the window of his car. Takes a puff. Exhales. Again.

Finally, he gives up. He turns the engine on and drives off.

 

Minutes later, he's in his old neigbourhood. The Kash and grab. The roof where he practiced shooting. His old graffiti wall, painted over with new, shitty, hippie crap. The abandoned building where he—where they—  

His house. That old, grey, decaying home of the devil itself. The place where he spent his best and his worst days. The place where he watched his mother die. The place where he'd wait for his father to go back to jail. The palce where he'd watch his father get taken away again.  The place where he first realised there was something about Ian Gallagher, something that Mickey was undeniably drawn to. The place where he first saw his little son, fresh out of the hospital, his little fingers grabbing Mickey's shirt instinctively. The place where that small, beautiful child was concieved when—when—when he and Ian—and Terry—

His entire body trembles at the thought of that. He'd been denying it ever happened. Like it was a big deal, banging a chick. He'd done it a bunch of times.

By choice. He'd done it by choice.

And that night, his choice wasn't a Russian whore. It was Ian.

But his choice didn't matter. Not if he wanted to stay alive. Not if he wanted Ian to stay alive.

Who would have thought something so good, so pure would come out of a trauma like that?

But it did. And now the 'it' is in the hospital, sick. The token of his pain, the hope in his hopelessness. The memory overwhelms him and he drives off.

 

He soon reaches a familiar crossroads. Not much later, he sees a familiar house. In front of it, a familiar face.

Debbie Gallagher.

So he stops. Debbie came to see him once with her kid. It's a fond memory.

"Yo. Peppermint Patty.“ he yells after he rolls his window down.

She turns around in surprise. "Mickey? What the hell?“

"Nice to see you too.“ he says sarcastically.

"Ian said you took off. Just surprised. Good to see ya, man.“ she smiles, leaning on the car.

"Yeah. You too. How's the kid?“

"She's good.“ she smiles. "Yours?“

"Um- in the hospital.“ he blurts out awkwardly, as if trying to understand it himself.

"What? Why?!“ she asks, a worried tone in her voice.

"Meningitis.“

"But wasn't he vaccinated?“

"Ha! A man would think so. Fucking Svet and her fucking experiments.“ he shakes his head, a nervous smile on his face.

"They're gonna take him away, aren't they?“ she says, her face frowning from concern.

"Yeah. Probably.“ he says, his look wandering.

"Fuck. Can anyone take him? Mandy?“

"They wouldn't give it to her because of the whole escort gig.“ he explains, his eyebrows rising and falling rhythmically.

"I'd take him but they are barely letting me keep Frannie.“

"It's okay, kiddo. Don't worry about it.“

"Fuck.“ she pauses. He stays quiet. "Maybe Ian can take him.“

He looks at her. A confused look. The kind of look only Mickey Milkovich could effectuate.

He stays quiet. So does she.

He finally opens his mouth. "No.“ is all that comes out before he starts pulling up his window. Just before he can complete that action, he hears a voice.

"Mickey?“

Fuck. Why did he have to go here? So fucking stupid.

A knock on his window. He inhales and opens it, trying to look as unaffected as possible.

"Yo.“ He takes a puff of his cigarette. So fucking slick. 

"Yo? Yo?! Really?“ He hears a nervous laugh. 

"Get in the car, Ian.“ he decides, surprising himself.

So he does.

"Deb. See ya around." Mickey adds before rolling up his window. 

She smiles. "Hope so." she answers, fully aware he probably can't even hear her. She watches as the car drives off their driveway and into the night, her brother inside with this unapologetically rude guy behind the wheel. Why does she approve of this? It looks cautionless. But those two. Who could understand those two?

She smiles sadly. She'll never know what that feels like. She'll never feel that kind of earthshattering love. She is a sixteen year old mother. The love she gets to feel from this point onwards is a much different  kind. A beautiful kind, of course. A fulfilling one. A devoted one.

But earthshattering? Unlikely.

Too damaged? Maybe. But everyone's too damaged.

Bad choices? Maybe. But everyone makes them.

She sighs and turns toward the house.

Mickey and Ian should really work it out. You don't get that kind of chance twice. Fuck, many don't even get it once. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some hints were dropped this chapter. Who knows how it plays out, though. Not even I know yet.
> 
> Some memories were presented, too. More or less fond ones. I just thought they shouldn't have stayed silenced forever. 
> 
> Thank you. Feel free to share your thoughts!


	8. Let me take care of him until he's better.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Important decisions. Big suggestions. Great memories.

They drive to a vacant parking lot, neither of them saying a word. Mickey parks the car and turns the engine off. He exits the car. Seconds later, Ian follows.

The large empty space makes Mickey feel free for the first time in a long fucking while. He looks around, nothing is there. No walls. No people. No noise. He revels the moment for a while. If they put him back in that cell someday, he'll always have this moment. Sure, everything's fucked. But everything is also silent, calm, peaceful. There is plenty of air. There are even some fucking stars, not that he's a fan. But still, a man learns to appreciate the stupid things too. And there's Ian. Even if this is their last conversation, no one could ever take this moment away from them. Standing across from him, looking at the stars, is the most captivating man Mickey's ever met. Everything about him is magnetizing. And now they're all alone again, much sooner than Mickey could have anticipated.

Ian's look shifts from the night sky to the man looking at him. His eyes tear up.

"How's Yev?“ he asks.

"He's uh- he's good.“ Mickey answers uncertainly.

"I saw him this afternoon. He's a brave little guy.“ Ian smiles now.

Mickey smiles  back. "Yes. Yes he is.“ He lights a cigarette and tosses the pack to Ian. Ian lights his own. He tosses the pack back to Mickey.

"So, uh, you're back?“ he asks, sheepishly.

"Had to see him.“

"How long you staying?“

"Not long.“ he just says.

He is loving this. It is awkward in a way, but if you really think about it; it isn't awkward at all. The way their conversation flows naturally even when they aren't sure what they are talking about is crazy. It's unparalelled. Even when they're angry at each other. Even when they hate each other. Even when they feel like everything has already been said; somehow there's always more. And somehow, they never have to put any thought in it. It just flows. Even when they shut up and there is nothing but silence around them. Like now. Just smoking their cigarettes, looking at each other. Breathing the same air. Allowing themselves not to think. Just enjoying the fond awkwardness.

"I love you.“ he hears a soft tone piercing the comfortable silence. It takes him a second to wake up from his trans. His look sharpens, Ian's eyes in his focus.

"What?“ he says quietly, almost as if he didn't mean to say anything. Almost as if he had no control over himself. Almost as if he didn't believe this was real. Any of this.

"I love you.“ the voice is louder this time; now burning through the silence again, still soft; but intentive. "I love you.“ it echoes, a portrayal of certainty. Tender certainty.

His eyes widen. His eyebrows rise. They fall back into place promptly. He swallows hard.

"Yeah, I- uh-“ he starts, but a sudden urge for laughter engulfs him. "I fucking love you, too.“ he manages to articulate, breathlessly.

The face across from him starts laughing too. A natural, warm laugh. Then, the silence again.

"Sorry for leaving like that.“ he says,  bringing new noise into the moment.

"I want to take Yev.“ he hears. A certainty again. Not so tender this time. Resolution.

"Huh? No.“ he says calmly.

"Why not?“ a hurt tone in the voice across from him.

"You got a mental disease, Ian.“ he says, trying not to sound offensive. "I don't think they-“

"I'm managing it, okay? I'm doing good. They can't discriminate like that.“ the tone is still hurt, but hopeful.

"Either way, I can't let you do that. You don't owe us anything.“ he shakes his head, his tone gentle.

The man across from him is hurt, that much is obvious. His glassy eyes are wandering all around the parking lot, failing to meet Mickey's. His tone sharpens. "This is not about that. It's about Yev. I want to make it up to him. And to you. And to Svet.“ The second half of his plead is almost soundless, said so breathlessly, barely voiced.

Mickey picks up on all the changes on the tone, on Ian's eyes, on the delicacy of the moment.

"Just let it go, Ian.“

"And then what? You gonna let them take him away?“ the hurt more prominent in the voice coming from the redhead.

"No. I'll figure something out.“ Mickey decides, taking one last puff of his cigarette before he tosses it on the floor beneath them.

"Figure what out? Huh? I wanna take him. Please let me take him.“ Ian is now loud, aggrieved.

"Will you drop it already?“

"No. I wanna take him.“ Mickey hears him proclaim, almost spiteful.

"Enough of this.“

"No. I wanna take him.“

"You're being a child, Ian.“

"Yeah, well, you're being a jerk. What's this really about? You don't think he's safe with me?“ aggravation now escaping him. It reaches Mickey and he almost crumbles at the thought Ian would think something like that. He knows how good he is doing. He knows he loves Yev and he would take good care of  him.

"No, of course that's not it. I told you. Just do your thing and leave me to sort this shit out by myself.“

"I'm better now. I'll keep him safe. I promise.“ By the sound of his voice, soft and sad, he could be on the verge of crying. Mickey takes a moment to think his next answer through.

He goes with:  "I know.“

"Then let me take care of him. Please.“  the last part is emphasised, loud, resonating in Mickey's head.

"I'll think about it, okay? That good enough for ya?“

"Yeah. I'll take that. Thanks.“ Ian smiles. He actually smiles. That's all it took? Fuck. Mickey's got to get better at this social shit if he ever plans on having a relationship with anyone. Ian maybe got his dry humour, his sarcasm, his bitterness; but not everyone will. Actually, fuck them. He doesn't want to change who he is for anyone. And he shouldn't. He should be good enough, clever enough, funny enough.

Now he smiles back to Ian, raising his eyebrows.  "Fuck, man. You sure know how to get what you want.“

"Yeah, I sure do.“ Mickey catches another smile. The cocky son of a bitch.

He laughs. He hears a laugh coming from across from him. He looks at Ian. A wide smile not leaving his face. His eyes still watery.

His smile subsides gradually. His look is focused on Mickey, not wandering any longer. He looks serious.

"We gotta talk about something else.“ Mickey hears and catches a quick change in tone.

"What now?“ he rolls his eyes, still smiling a little, but when he looks back at Ian, his expression changes. The man is looking more serious by the second. Well, this can't be good.

"I want you to go back to prison.“ he hears, but doesn't register it.

After a second, he frowns, the information reaching his brain. "I'm sorry, what?!“

"Go back. I'll get you a lawyer and we'll get you out of there in a heartbeat.“ Ian is still serious, but looks calm, like he had thought this through, like this was something you just think through and decide for another person. Fucking jerk. Mickey can't help the anger boiling inside of him. He tries his best to control it.

"Are you for real? You're just a fucking genious, aren't you?!“ he blurts us, genuinely shocked.

"Huh?“ Ian looks dumbfounded. Like he was certain this was a great plan and how he can't believe Mickey isn't on board with it. Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with this guy?!

"I'm not going back. Ever. Terry is there. They'd just extend my sentence because of running.“ he says, trying not to yell. Still in disbelief.

Ian is left unbothered. At least that's how he looks. "But we could get you off the attempted murder charges.“ he just says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"But you can't get me off running from prison charges, can you?“ he retorts, now playing this stupid, silly, childish game.

"No, but you'd get a year or two. That's nothing.“ he hears, immediate infuriation taking over him.

"Nothing? That's nothing to you? A year with Terry is nothing to you?“ he laughs nervously. Is this real? Is this really happening? Is Ian really so ignorant, so thoughtless?! The laugh echoes on the deserted parking lot. "I'm not going back, Ian. Even if Terry wasn't around. I'm not playing by their rules. All the system ever did for me was fuck me up in the first place.“

Ian is, for some reason, still unbothered. Is any of this getting to him at all? "But we could have a life after that. We could raise Yev together. We could have the lawyer file some kind of a request to move you to a different prison.“ Mickey hears him say. He shakes his head in growing disbelief.

"Ian. This is who I am. A criminal on the run. That's all I'm ever gonna be.“

"But-“

"But nothing. I'm not making you run with me. But I'm doing this on my terms.“ he says undoubtfully.

So Ian nods. He seems to finally understand. There is no way for Mickey to go back there. Because of Terry, sure. But more than anything, because he was smart enough to beat the system for once. The system that kept knocking him down from the moment he was born. The system that fucked up his childhood, his education, his chance of being an upstanding citizen. It even fucked up his wish to be an upstanding citizen. There is no democracy. There is no rights for the little guys. There is just scheming, stealing, drug dealing. Doing what you gotta do. Because no one ever gives a shit and no one ever will. You gotta be rich to get rich. You gotta be a white North side college kid to have any chance in life whatsoever. Iggy and Joey told him about how Lip has ended up. That's how they all end up. They can be clever as fuck, geniouses. They can be smart, creative, inovative, all that. But they will never accomplish shit. Because no one gives a break to kids like them. Only alcohol and sex give a break to kids like them. Disgusting elitist people can call them white trash, sure. White trash, black trash, all the same. They're trash. But only because they chose not to live by anyone's obnoxious standards. Only because life has kicked them repeatedly and they decided to kick back; to fight back. This is him fighting back. And he needs Ian to understand that. Ian used to have that impulse, too. It's probably still there, deep inside, repressed by this strong urge to blend in, to prove to himself and to everyone else that he can be normal, he can fit in, he can function properly. And Mickey understands that. He gets the urge. That's why he left that night. That's why he knew Ian and him have no future. They just want different things. Different lives. That's okay, though. What matters to Mickey is that Ian's aware of how much he is loved, that he's aware Mickey is always there somewhere if he needs him, if he gets sick of everything. He might be leaving, but Mickey can never leave _him_.

What the fuck is he going to do with Yevgeny, though?! Ian wants to take him. Ian can take good care of him. But Mickey can't stand the thought of Ian taking on such a huge responsibility by himself. Mickey has to leave, that's a choice he has to make for himself. Yev would be happy with Ian. That way, Svetlana could visit whenever and he'd be close to Iggy and Joey and god knows the Gallaghers take good care of their own. He'd be around family. Debbie's there, too. He isn't sure why, but for some reason he trusts that redheaded teenager.

Ian is a good choice for Yev, no one is questioning that. Yev would be comfortable with them around him. Mickey just can't help but to feel guilty for even thinking about obliging Ian with that kind of responsibility, that kind of baggage. He just got his life back, accepted himself as he is and he has a chance to build a future for himself, this kind of change would slow him down, turn everything around again. He doesn't deserve that. He deserves peace and stability and a chance to make it, to be whatever or whoever he wants.

But then, again, what about Yev? This may be his only chance to get it right with that kid. To make sure he is safe. To make sure he is properly taken care of; loved, fed, clothed, healthy.

Fuck.

"I don't know what I'm gonna do.“ he allows himself to admit.

"About what? Yev?“

"Yeah.“

"Mickey. I understand it's a hard decision. You don't wanna burden me. But I love that kid. I can take care of him. Svet can see him whenever she wants and so can you.“

Mickey enhales sharply before saying: "You're his only chance. But I don't want you to do that because you feel like you owe us something.“

"That's not why I want this. I love him and I want him to be safe. He's family to me, too.“ he hears Ian admit, a sincerity in his voice. Mickey can't help but to feel genuinely thankful for this man across from him. He may not have it all figured out, but he's trying so hard. To live his life. To make it right with Mickey. To make it right with Yevgeny. To be happy. And he fucking deserves it, too.

"Yeah. Okay.“ he says quietly, looking at the ground beneath him.

"Okay what? Okay, I can take him?“

"If you're sure, yeah. I guess.“

Ian nods. "Thanks for saying that. I'm gonna do good, I promise.“

Mickey looks at Ian. There is a comforting smile on his lips. That makes Mickey feel a little better about all of this. Maybe it's not such a burden after all. He really hopes it isn't.

"Yeah. I know.“ he just answers. He pauses. Maybe this is a good thing. They'll see how it works. Maybe this is a smart desicion. Ian sounds serious about this and he seems to know what's at stake. He lets himself just breathe for a while. Maybe he can relax for only a moment. Maybe they can somehow make this work.

"Whatcha wanna do tonight?“ is the next thing he says, deciding to finally enjoy his time home a little bit.

"Um. How 'bout we go to the dugouts? Old times sake.“  

"Aye. It's fuckin' cold.“

"When did that ever stop us?“

At that, Mickey can't help but smile. They enter the car and drive off. Nothing ever stopped them. For tonight, at least, they're invincible.

The purple sky above them. The silent night. The place they remember being happiest at. Nothing's changed. Nothing ever changes on the South side. So tonight, they remain unchanged. For tonight, they are two kids having a good time. Yelling on an empty baseball field. Taking each other's clothes off. Kissing. Mickey always wanted to do that here, again. For tonight, they can dream. They can laugh. They can fuck. They can be whoever they want to be. They can be happy. Unbothered. They can forget. The prison, the bipolar, Yevgeny's disease. They can just sit around and feel like kids again. God, how stupid they were back then. God, how beautiful it was. No one to hold them back. Future ahead of them. Even the second time they were here. A sudden, newfound hope for some relief. A chance to forget everything they were dealing with. Their last happy moment before Mickey left.

 Maybe history really is nothing but a cycle. If that is the case, we owe it to ourselves to make the most of it. We owe it to ourselves to break the cycle. How can we do that? By pushing ourselves to do better, to live better. To love better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You might feel all this to be somewhat out of Ian's (current) character. I'd like to note this particular piece of fiction has no obligation towards the canon. Here, Ian is mature enough to see some stuff more clearly and to take on some responsibility he thinks he is fit enough for.
> 
> You've seen it correctly, the next chapter is the last. I want to thank everyone for participating, commenting, leaving kudos and good vibrations. I hope I don't disappoint. My urge to write this wasn't to please anyone, but to express my creative bond to these characters. That being said, I still hope to have shared a piece of that creativity with all of you. Thank you again. Stay tuned for the grand finale.


	9. I knew you'd come

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Goodbyes. Hellos.

Dawn.

Ian's jawline brushing against his neck. A kiss on his lips. Good morning. This is a good morning. A definition of a good morning. He inhales. The smell of shampoo and cigarettes. He opens his eyes. Sunshine from the East is reaching the backseat of the car they are curled up in, warming up their cheeks gently. Ian kisses him again. A deeper kiss. Mickey turns flat on his back, thus allowing Ian to climb on top of him. He takes Mickey's hands and puts them together forcefully, pinning them onto the car door. Mickey smiles, but Ian goes right back to kissing him. The kiss is long this time, their tounges collide lustfully. Ian pulls Mickey's jawline down with his two fingers and his mouth open even wider. Ian traces his tounge gently all over Mickey's lips, teasing him. One short, endearing bite of Mickey's lips is enough to set them both on fire. Ian takes his shirt off. Mickey tries to help, but Ian just pins him down again.

"Did I say you can move?“

Mickey shakes his head. This is fucking hot. He watches Ian as he removes every last part of clothing from his muscular, strong body. He then moves up until his crotch is inches away from Mickey's face. Mickey takes the hint. Ian's dick is now warming the inside of his mouth. His mouth is now wetting Ian's dick. Eagerness in his movements. He tries to reposition to take him in deeper, but now Ian takes the hint and turns around, the new angle providing access to the deepest parts of Mickey's throat. He takes him in fully, keeps taking him in, enjoying every inch grinding on the margins of the inside of his mouth. Ian keeps moving, picking up the pace of his thrusts.The moans escaping him encourage Mickey to keep up and not long after, his taste buds are awoken by a salty, creamy taste. He swallows it in eagerly and looks up at Ian. His mouth is still open, pleasure written all over his face, his eyes closed, trying to maintain balance by pushing the roof of the car with palms of his hands. A second later, he opens his eyes and looks down at Mickey. He laughs breathlessly.

"Fuck, that was good.“ He moves downwards, sitting on Mickey's legs now. Mickey sits up. He doesn't say a word, just keeps looking at Ian. He bites his bottom lip. Within a second, he is grabbing Ian by his torso and pinning him down on the seat. Ian is surprised by this swift motion, but he complies.

"Someone missed the control, huh?“

"Shut up.“ he kisses him again. He traces his tounge from the outside of Ian's bottom lip to the inside of his upper lip, finishing the kiss by pushing his own bottom lip into Ian's mouth passionately. "That was so fucking hot.“ he says, barely articulating the words.

"What? Me pinning you down, making you suck my dick?“

The words and the husky tone drive Mickey mad in a heartbeat.

"Now I get to make you come too, right?“ Ian asks teasingly, as if he doesn't know the answer.

Mickey doesn't say a word. His look shifts from Ian's eyes to his lips, and he licks them playfully. Ian smiles at that. "Don't worry, I know what makes you tick.“

"Oh, do you now?“

"Wanna find out?“ Ian grins. Mickey grins back. The next thing he knows, Ian is taking his boyfriend's jeans off and reaching for him to bring him closer to his mouth. Mickey reaches for the boxers, but Ian stops him and takes them off himself, making Mickey reposition so they can be slided off of him. Ian then reaches down for him, taking his ass in his hands and bringing it on his face. When his tounge brushes against Mickey's perineum gently, a sound of both pleasure and disbelief escapes Mickey's lips. Fuck, Ian really does know what makes him tick. Ian's next move almost makes him come instantly. He pushes his tounge into Mickey's anus, as deep as it can reach, and his mouth wetly engulf the area surrounding it. He keeps pushing and after a short time, he reaches for Mickey's dick. Mickey mouths one word. One little word. The hottest fucking word Ian's ever heard. _Fuck._ He doesn't even say it, he just mouths it, lost in the feeling completely.

"I can't do this. I gotta fuck you.“

The words reach Mickey but he doesn't react until Ian pulls his hand back. He opens his eyes and sees Ian's look on him, devouring him. He tries to move so they can switch positions, but Ian holds him firm in place.

"No. You're riding me. Now.“

He doesn't say a word. Just pushes himself down towards Ian's crotch, takes his dick in his hand and positions himself onto it. He does it slowly, cautiously, all the while watching Ian's face. When he sees the man frown from pleasure and squeeze his mouth shut, he starts moving. The perfect angle. He gradually picks up the pace, Ian's hands supporting his legs, making sure he is all balanced out. Then, Ian brings one of his hands on Mickey's dick and his lover makes a sound of pure pleasure and his head falls back, his eyes closed.

"Not gonna last.“ he says and swallows hard.

"Good. Me neither.“ Ian smiles. "Kiss me.“ Ian sits, his one hand still on Mickey's dick, and the other one is pushing them closer together. Mickey kisses him and leans into him, which provides Ian with more liberty to push in even deeper inside of him. He feels his climax approaching rapidly and he bites Mickey's bottom lip to stop himself from being too loud. A couple of more strokes are enough for Mickey to follow.

Ian lays on his back again and Mickey lays on top of him, arching his hips up to separate their bodies.

"Fuck. I missed that.“ Ian says, lighting a cigarette.

"It's been like 3 days, man.“

"Too fucking long.“ he laughs. Mickey joins him. He takes a cigarette out of his mouth and places it in his own, taking a puff. They lay in silence for a while.

 

"You change your mind about Yev?“ Mickey asks.

"Nope.“ Ian responds calmly. "Not going to, either.“

"Good.“ he nods. "Gotta go see him and head back.“

"Already?“ Ian asks, disappointment in his voice evident.

"It's too fucking risky as it is.“

"Yeah.“ he swallows. He knew this was coming. Why does he feel like his world is shattering? Why is he falling to pieces at the very thought of Mickey leaving again?

Mickey looks at him. "You should get back together with you boyfriend.“ Ian's look changes from softness to shock in a second. He shakes his head.

"If you wanna get back together, sure. But if you're talking about someone else, not interested.“

Mickey laughs. "I'm serious, man. Take every chance you can get because life is gonna fuck you over sooner or later.“

"Life fucked me over a long time ago, Mickey. And you're the only person I've ever known who could make me forget.“ he says slowly, quietly, cautiously. A deep sadness in his voice. It makes Mickey's heart twitch. He sighs.

"Yeah. You make me forget, too.“ he smiles gently.

"This goodbye?“ Ian asks. Mickey doesn't say anything. He just brings him close and kisses him. The kiss lacks the earlier heat. It's soft, it's emotional. It's all the unspoken feelings they needed to convey, but never knew how. All the _I-love-yous_ , all the _I-need-yous_ , all the _don't-leave-mes._

It's tender, loving. It's sorrowful. It's goodbye.

 

* * *

 

 

"Doin' good, little guy?“ Mickey asks, but Yevgeny just keeps looking at him, puzzled. He kisses him on the cheek and pinches his nose lightly. "I gotta go now and Ian's gonna take you. You remember Ian?“ he asks and points to the redheaded man beside him.

"I don't think he understands you, Mick.“

"Oh, aren't you a goddamn genious?“ Mickey looks at him sarcastically and his eyes dart back to Yev. He smiles. "He'll take good care of ya, okay?“ he nods. He touches his son's face with his hand, the gentle skin warm on his palm. He almost tears up so he decides to leave and avoid the feelings overwhelming him.  He turns to Ian and looks at him.

"Um,  I'm just gonna go. A long trip ahead and shit.“

"Yeah. Okay. Stay safe. Don't be a fucking stranger.“ Ian says quietly, his eyes looking at the floor. Mickey touches his face with his hand gently, just like he did with Yevgeny seconds before, but his hand freezes when he feels Ian's warm, wet cheeks.

"Please. Don't.“ he barely manages to say. He inhales deeply to regain control over his emotions.

Ian says nothing. He just stares blankly at the floor and Mickey takes that as a queue to walk away. So he does. He walks away while he still can. He exits the hospital building and chilly Chicago air welcomes him. He walks away from it all. From his son, from the love of his life, from his home. He walks away again. How many goodbyes does a man have to say in his lifetime? It always seems like one too many. It's always going to feel like one too many because people like him don't get to have a home, they don't get to have a dream life. So he keeps walking, trying hard to supress his anger.

"Gonna see you again?“ he hears a loud voice behind him. He turns around. A man, his man, is running to him. The next thing he knows, he's taking him into his arms, joining their lips in one soft motion. Mickey cups the man's face, cheeks still warm, still wet. He lets his tears pour. Maybe just one. One can't hurt. Or two. All the same.

"I wanna go with you. Take me with you.“ Ian whispers, breaking the kiss.

"What about Yev?“

"We can take him, too.“

"We can't take him anywhere. Child protective services don't let you do that.“

"We could get like some kind of permission from the person assigned to our case?“

"Ian. Don't make this any harder.“ Mickey says gently and kisses him again. He makes the kiss slow, trying to feel every second of it. His one hand is on Ian's neck, and he breaks the kiss to bury his face into Ian's shoulder. He inhales his scent one last time. "Keep him safe for me.“ he whispers into his shoulder.

He slowly moves away and turns around.

He gets into the car, refusing to allow this to drag out any longer.

The daylight is at its strongest point. It is chilly, but bright. He puts his shades on and starts the car. He catches one more glimpse of Ian, one more tiny goodbye glimpse. Ian is motionless, just like the time Mickey left him at the motel. Mickey rolls his window down, refusing  to let it end like this.

"Yo. Gallagher.“

Ian looks at him as if woken up from a bad dream. Before he could say something, Mickey yells:   

"You make me forget.“ He barely articulates it. He swallows hard. Time to leave.

Just like that, he is out of Ian's life again. On the other hand, at least this time he has Yev to ease the pain. He's not alone anymore.

At that thought, he turns around abruptly. He heads back into the hospital to be with his baby. To make him company. To help make Yev comfortable around him. To fulfill his promise to Mickey. He loves that kid. He's gonna take care of that kid the best he can.

Life can't always give you what you want. It gives you shit most of the time. It leaves you to sort that shit out and make a couple of good memories from it all. Maybe Mickey isn't in those memories for now, but Yevgeny is. Maybe Mickey will find his place in them again. Maybe Mickey will find his place with them again. Maybe they could be a family. But for now, he has to work with what he's got, and what he's got is a beautiful child.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

EPILOGUE

 

Mexico is good. Mexico is amazing. The weather is amazing. The beaches are amazing. The people are fun. Most importantly, no one is looking for him. Nothing is haunting him. Except, maybe, memories. But what would a man do without those?

Tampico is a cool fucking city. Small, beautiful. Comfy. Sunny. The sun is good for him. He even got some tan now. He can't help but laugh when he thinks about how he'd tease Ian if he was there. First time he isn't the pale one.

Ian.

They've talked. Mostly about Yevgeny. He sends him pictures almost every fucking day. Yevgeny in the park. Yevgeny and Ian trick-or-treating. Yevgeny in the pool. Yevgeny and Ian in the ambulance car. Yevgeny and Ian in matching EMT outfits. Fuck, that man spends his money on such stupid shit. It was kind of cute, though.

They haven't really talked about much else. Mickey sent a couple pictures of Tampico. The usual stuff. It looked like they were both avoiding any complex communication. It was just easier. They needed it to be easy for a while.

Mickey isn't really seeing anyone. Banged a couple of guys. Nothing special. No one important. No more boyfriends or shit like that. He's seen first hand that type of stuff just doesn't work out. It isn't for him, obviously. Besides, he can't really picture himself in a relationship with someone who's not Ian. Just doesn't work.

Fuck, that man is stuck so deep under his skin, it's crazy. It's like a fucking itch, but a distant one, you're unable to reach, like it's coming from somewhere deep inside of you, a place so dark and hidden you can barely even sense its presence. Still, it itches and it's not letting go. It's becoming ridiculous, if he is being honest. He watches the pictures Ian sends him and can't help but wish he was there to witness all these silly moments. Fuck. When did he become so fucking domestic? Or was he always like this? Whatever, when did he start allowing himself to think shit like this?

He gets out of the shower. Enough thinking. Enough of this. Time to get drunk. It's been a while after all. He wraps himself in a towel and heads to the kitchen to grab a beer. He opens the bottle and takes a sip. A sudden knock on his door alarms him. It always does. He tries to regain his composure and goes to the door to open them.

 Standing in front of him is a stunning redhead, one he hasn't seen in 8 fucking months. His hair is slicked back, a smile on his face, a suitcase by his side.

"Ian, wh-“ he starts, but he is taken aback instantly by the man kissing him passionately. Mickey melts into the kiss unwillingly. He can't fucking help it. Fuck.

"They gave Yev back to Svet this morning. I got on the first plane here.“ Ian says breathlessly after breaking the kiss, but he keeps Mickey close, his hands on his hips.

"They what? Why didn't you tell me?“

"We knew it was gonna happen sooner or later. Figured I'd just surprise you.“

He kisses him again. "Miss me?“ He smiles. The son of a bitch. Mickey is still in utter disbelief, everything just starting to fall into place.

"How did you know where I live?“

"You told me like a dozen times that you lived right above the Mexican India, you fucking dork. I looked it up and turns out there really is a deli called Mexican India. Doesn't take a fucking genious, does it?“

"Huh.“ Mickey is dumbfounded. Ian was paying attention to his crap? He just stares at him, trying to piece all of this together. Fuck, why is he more surprised about that than the fact Ian is fucking here, in Mexico, standing right in front of him?

"What, you gonna just stare at me all day?“ Ian teases. Mickey closes the apartment door shut and slams his boyfriend into them.

"Nope.“ he kisses him hard, the hidden itch scratched at last. If this is real, he can't tell yet. If this is going to last, fuck only knows. But fuck it if he is going to miss a second of it. Why is it some people are just so damn addictive, it takes just one look at them, one fucking look, to make your knees weak? And after so long, after months, after years sometimes; no matter the time and no matter the distance, you can't let go for shit. The second you feel their skin on yours, there is no turning back. There is no getting over this. There is no getting over him.

 

Life can't always give you what you want. It gives you shit most of the time. It leaves you to sort that shit out and make a couple of good memories from it all. Maybe it is finally time for their memories to collide again and for the fireworks to start, celebrating the shitty life that brought them together in the first place.

Life can't always give you what you want. It gives you shit most of the time. Sometimes, just sometimes, though; you have to take what you want and hold onto it with everything you've got. You got nothing to lose anyway.

Fuck the odds. They are never in your favour.

You won't get what you want by waiting someone to throw it in your lap. You get what you want by beating the odds. You get what you want by being fearless. Though, sometimes, a writer too weak for his own good comes by and makes sure you don't hurt a second of your life again. Today, that writer is me. Tomorrow, that writer is you.

"I knew you'd come.“ Mickey whispers. Ian smiles. Of course he knew. He always knew. Ian always knew, too. Some people you just don't get over. Some people you don't want to get over. Those are the people worth living for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah. Thank you so much. It's been one hell of a ride. I loved writing this. I loved your comments. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.
> 
> Too optimistic? Probably. I just couldn't help it. It's a shitty life, sure, but some moments make the pain worth it. Is that too optimistic? No. That's life. That's how this works. It's ride or die, so fucking ride while you got a choice.
> 
> I love you all. Fight for the happy moments.


End file.
